A Distant Land
by Wandering Gypsy of the Wastela
Summary: Aragorn, Legolas, Merry, Pippin and Gimli set sail for a land named Cedacia to meet with the king, but meet with trouble. Slash warning: legolas/aragorn, legolas/elrond. r-rating for future situations.
1. Evenstar

This story was written with Jaya (JayaKorin@viafamily.com).  
  
Disclaimer: Middle Earth and its characters belong to Tolkien, no money is made off of this story. And no disrespect is intended.  
  
Chapter One -- Evenstar  
  
He was sitting at the desk in the corner of the spacious bedroom. It was still dark, for the sun had not yet risen and the only light came from the flickering candle in front of him. It cast a coppery glow upon his hair, while wreathing his face in shadows and gold. It was not just the light and the dark, there was something else, making him appear older and somehow more worn. ~Aragorn~  
  
There is something almost indecisive about the way his pen hovers over the piece of paper. It is the third letter actually, he had already started two others and discarded them just as quickly.  
  
~Aragorn this doesn't suit you.~ She thought to herself. ~Trust the words, not that it matters. He would come no matter what you write of this I am certain.~  
  
The sound of the scratching pen invaded the previous silence. She closed her eyes again knowing it was not the time to say anything. Arwen, would not confront him. If her husband could not admit the truth to himself, much less to her, then that was where it would stay. She tried not to let it bother her, and in truth most of the time it did not. It was something that she understood, though perhaps could not whole-heartedly encourage.  
  
Some time later, after Aragorn had left the room, Arwen rose gracefully from the bed. As she walked silently across the room, her flowing pale blue robes fell gently in soft folds about her slender body, bare feet making not a sound. Carefully she picked up the letter, letting her eyes scan the neatly scripted words. Poetic, but still slightly rough around the edges.  
  
'Friend Legolas,  
  
Soon, I will be setting off upon a journey, that will cross the sea to another place. I will not say the purpose of the visit in this letter. It is my hope that you will consent to join me on this quest. Little is known, however it is always a pleasure to have your bow and keen eye sight about. One never knows when they might save our lives, and it would be a pleasure to travel with you again.  
  
It is good here, but there is much I miss about before, like our travels, and the simplicity of things. However it cannot be helped.  
  
I have requested that Gimli join us and he has already accepted. I expect him to arrive sometime in the next fortnight. It would also seem that the dear Hobbits, Merry and Pippin are set upon accompanying us as well, despite my attempts to dissuade them, they will not listen to me. My dear friend it has been long since our parting. It is my hope that you will join me, that we might sail the seas together. We travel as soon as the worst of the storms are over. That should give you time to reach us, if you leave Rivendell post haste. I hope to see you soon. May you have a safe journey my friend.  
  
Sincerely  
  
Aragorn'  
  
Arwen set the sheet of paper back down on the desk with a sigh. She stared at the cluttered surface, at the still burning candle which was no longer needed as the first rays of golden sunlight shattered the shadows; at an old ink spill that had never come out of the dark red wood surface; and finally to the gold inlaid pen he always used, that lay next to the stack of papers still awaiting his signature.  
  
~Aragorn, you work too hard~ She thought turning away. ~Perhaps I should have insisted he go sooner, I hope this trip will give him the break he needs.~  
  
***  
  
It was only a few weeks later when she decided that perhaps it was not all together wise to wait for him to come to her. It was obvious that he had no intentions of doing that. Arwen knew that without some word from her he would never follow his heart, and it touched her to know that despite the feelings that obvious ran deep in him, he did not let them change anything and it was all because of her. Though she did not approve, she knew that she had to let him be free to follow his heart, if that was what he choose. She would wait for him and when he returned they would decide what had to be done.  
  
She sat on the bed with her bare feet drawn up beneath her. Once again watching him, while his mind was off in other places, with other people. For a few moments her eyes returned to the piece of half filled parchment that lay upon the writing board in her lap. It was the letter to her father that she had started the night before. Perhaps it was foolish to think that it might reach him before he reached the Havens, but still she had written it anyway.  
  
Studying the tall rugged figure of her husband, the king of Gondor, she knew she was proud of him. In the end he had become a great man among men, though in truth, he always had been a great man. Aragorn, son of Arathorn now stood staring out into the night. Despite the fact that his features had softened some, since his past days as a Ranger, he looked more worn, and weary these days than he ever had before. She knew the duties of a King sat heavily upon his shoulders, that many times he chaffed under the tight reins that were kept upon him. She knew that he longed for just one day without a paper to sign, or someone's problems to solve. Arwen also knew that Aragorn longed for the days when he had been able to come and go as he pleased, without a word to anyone if he did not wish it.  
  
~He will not go without my permission, and yet he cannot ask for that wish he which he truly wants. Dear Aragorn, you always did what people asked of you, what you knew was right. Yet the one truly selfish wish you had... You won't reach out and take it, because of me...~  
  
Arwen sighed, sitting the writing board on the bed beside her. She ran her hands along the cream coloured robe that she wore, walking over to stand next to him by the window. ~If I set him free, he may never come back to me.~ She thought with a sad little smile. ~But I can not hold him here because of my own selfishness.~  
  
Putting a delicate hand upon Aragorn's shoulder, she spoke in a soft voice.  
  
"He will come Aragorn, do not worry so." Arwen thought she felt him tense beneath her fingertips, but made no mention of it.  
  
Not saying anything at first, Aragorn slid an arm around her slender waist, pulling her warm body close to his own. Somehow her closeness helped to cut through the maze of thoughts that had been wreaking havoc upon his brain. He tired not to think of someone else, and what it would feel like to have that other body next to him. ~Ah Arwen you should not have married me, I am not good enough for you~ He thought bitterly. ~My thoughts stray to another. I should not be so weak.~  
  
Aragorn sighed, but the bitter stew did not boil over the top, yet.  
  
"Arwen, I..."  
  
Instead of letting him go on she simply shook her head, looking up at him, but his face was turned away from her.  
  
"Ne, say nothing, for I already understand more then you realize, or maybe I just know you better then you know yourself sometimes." She brushed a dark strand of hair behind her ear. "I do not want you to say anything yet, I want you to go and I want you to relax and think not of me." Reaching up, she turned his head so that she could look into his eyes. "Aragorn I want you to do what you know is right in here--" Arwen touched her finger to his heart. "--not what you think is right up here--" The finger traveled delicately up to his temples. "Do you understand me?"  
  
There was a pause and Aragorn said nothing until she looked away.  
  
"But..."  
  
"Just promise me that you will do as I ask." Arwen cut him off again, before he could go any further. "When you return if you wish to talk to me, I will be here. If you still cannot approach me on your own, then I do not wish to hear of it. The decision will be up to you alone, my Ranger. I trust you to make the one that is right for you." Sliding out of his embrace she moved silently across the floor to once again take her place on the bed. Picking up the writing board, she placed it upon her lap, and took up the pen once again.  
  
"Have you heard back from Foromir?"  
  
"I have," came the quiet response  
  
"What has he to say, has he agreed to assist me while you are away? Will Eowyn be accompanying him?" She inquired.  
  
Aragorn kept his gaze upon the stars above and the city below for a little while longer, listening to the soft sigh of the earth upon the wind.  
  
"Foromir will be here in a few weeks, but there was no mention of Eowyn."  
  
"A pity, I should like to visit with her again, I enjoyed her company the last time they were here." Arwen commented.  
  
"I will be gone for some time, I doubt that Foromir would leave her there alone for so long." He shrugged not altogether certain. "I will sail easier knowing that Foromir is here to help you, should the need arise," Aragorn added almost more to himself than to Arwen. "I trust the two of you implicitly, otherwise I would not dare to embark upon this endeavor."  
  
"You worry too much, my love."  
  
The window no longer held any interest to him as his eyes followed her back across the room. Could he really have been so mistaken about this wonderful woman, the beautiful daughter of Elrond? Aragorn stood there studying her. The golden hued candlelight complimented the dark contrast of her hair against the cream colour of the robe she wore. ~Both the light and the dark, wise and beautiful.~ he thought, almost as if seeing her in that light for the first time.  
  
A few moments later she looked up at him with a wry smile.  
  
"Come to bed Aragorn." It was more of an order then a request, but he did not mind. "You must sleep tonight, it will do you no good to stay awake and brood."  
  
He chuckled despite himself. Moving to the bed, he sat down next to her for a moment, reaching over to play with a strand of her dark hair.  
  
"Thank you, Arwen," he said softly, brushing a kiss across her lips, before turning away. "I will try, but I do not know if I will be able to rest my thoughts enough to sleep. There is so much still to be done, and I would like to set out soon."  
  
Arwen nodded.  
  
"I know, but tonight do not worry about it. Sleep now and everything will look easier with the dawn of a new day, and a good nights sleep behind you."  
  
"You are wise like your father, you know."  
  
"I have been told, but every man is wise in his own right."  
  
"And stubborn."  
  
Arwen settled her gaze on Aragorn, a look of warning on her fine features.  
  
"Do not try my patience tonight, Aragorn. You may be King, but I am still your wife."  
  
"Aye that you are," the King of Gondor said with a chuckle  
  
***  
  
Looking through the window, high up in the walls of the place, Aragorn saw the people gathered below, waiting to see him off. The King was not ready to face them quite yet, instead he left the window behind, to find Arwen waiting for him. She stood in the doorway, on the other side of the hall, watching him thoughtfully. The soft, sky blue gown she wore did nothing to hide her beautiful figure. It was delicately embroidered with deep blue flowers and accented by a soft sheen of silver cast by the few pieces of jewelry that she wore.  
  
"You are leaving then?" She asked quietly.  
  
"If you would have me go."  
  
Arwen walked over to stand before him, studying her husband's face.  
  
"Aye, I would have you go, Aragorn. I would have you go and find a way to put your heart at peace."  
  
The tall, rugged man said nothing. Instead he enfolded her within his strong arms, pulling Arwen's slender body against him. A gentle scent of lilac rose greeted his nose, and he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.  
  
"I will come back, Arwen," Aragorn whispered, brushing the back of his hand along her cheek.  
  
"May the winds be in your favor." Arwen stepped away from him. "Remember Ranger, follow what is in your heart, not what is in your head. I would have you be happy in the choice you make."  
  
He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it. Turning away, Aragorn started towards the door, only to turn back to her when he was half way there.  
  
"Spring is here, take joy in it, Arwen. I do not deserve one such as you."  
  
Instead of answering, she simply gave him a sad smile.  
  
"Go, before you are late, and they sail without you."  
  
"They would not sale without the King."  
  
"Just go Aragorn!"  
  
"Good bye Arwen." He said turning and walking away from her without another glance. Aragorn stopped only for a few final words with Faramir, and a quick hug for the Lady Eowyn, who stood beside her husband, before leaving the Palace. Then it was over, and Aragorn, son of Arathorn and King of Gondor, mounted upon his horse and road down through the city to the port; where the ship that would carry him and his company across the sea was moored. 


	2. Setting Sail

This story was written with Jaya (JayaKorin@viafamily.com).  
  
1 Disclaimer: Middle Earth and its characters belong to Tolkien, no money is made off of this story. And no disrespect is intended.  
  
2 Chapter Two â€" Setting Sail  
  
The docks were full of activity as Aragorn approached his ship. While many had been outside the Palace to see the King off, those at the shores were busy going about the hustle and bustle of their daily lives. The shipyard loomed in the distance with the skeletons of ships that would one day set sail, and of ships that would never again sail the seas. The smell of fresh, and not so fresh, fish permeated the air-and salt, the blessed smell of salt and the sea. Aragorn breathed deeply the sent of the sea, and freedom. For a moment, he knew the longing that drew Legolas, though not with the same intensity.  
  
The 'Fairwinds' was perhaps the most impressive ship moored, but that was only fitting-she would be carrying Gondor's king away from its shores. It was really more than Aragorn cared for, but the ship was still beautiful. Wood gleamed in the morning light; silver, her sails not unfurled yet-but soon they would be flying in all their glory. The flag of Gondor was raised high. Aragorn raised an eyebrow when he saw the figurehead, the lady was obviously elven, evident in her pointed ears. At least she did not favor Arwen, that would have been too much for the him right then. Aragorn had hand picked most of the crew, and trusting in their judgment, had allowed them to choose the remainder. He would see now if that decision had been wise or no.  
  
Aragorn smiled to himself when he saw the two small figures lounging on a pile of crates. Yes, it would be good to be on the road again-or on a ship, as the case may be. It was not often that he got to leave the confines of the White City without some form of Guard. Aragorn did not care for such things, and while Anada, the captian of the Kings Gaurd was a good and loyal man, he did not understand Aragorn's need for some space from time to time. The King could not fault the man for it though, he was simply trying to do his job. In fact, Aragorn could still hear his most adamant complaints about his decisions surrounding this trip. Aragorn was not about to let the man have his way, not this time, this was his trip and he was going to do it his way.  
  
The call of the sea gulls brought Aragorn out of his thoughts, he looked up to see Merry and Pippin, seemingly asleep, their Lothlorien cloaks about their shoulders. At one time perhaps he might have thought them truly asleep, but not anymore. He knew at least one of them was awake. His own cloak was packed among his things, one of his most prized possessions. Anduril hung from his side, a comforting presence. He reined in his horse near the hobbits.  
  
"I see the laziness has not left the two of you!" Aragorn called to the reclining figures. The hobbits jumped up and ran to greet the Ranger eagerly.  
  
"You are late!" Pippin exclaimed and Merry nudged him in the ribs.  
  
"Behave," he admonished. Aragorn simply laughed at the familiar banter between the two.  
  
"Where is Gimli?" the man inquired. He knew the dwarf had arrived earlier that day, but he had not see him yet and could not find his familiar bulk among the bustling people about them. "And has there been word of Legolas?"  
  
"Gimli is already on board," Merry explained. "Helping, you know how he hates to be idle. As for Legolas, no-we have not seen him yet. I wanted to go ahead and get on the ship but the Took here said he would be spending plenty of time on board a ship and he would enjoy his last moments on solid ground, thank you very much."  
  
Pippin just made a face at Merry and they tussled a bit. Aragorn dismounted, leaving the two hobbits arguing as he boarded the ship, looking for Gimli. He found the dwarf helping a few of the sailors, taking instructions from them. When they saw their King, they stopped what they were doing to greet him properly, but Aragorn waved them off. That still made him uncomfortable, and it was not conducive to getting things done. Some of the faces he recognized from past excursions, a few he did not. Aragorn peered into their faces, but had no misgivings, at least none that presented themselves at the moment.  
  
"Gimli," Aragorn said fondly, smiling at the dwarf. "It is good to see you again."  
  
The dwarf made his way over, clasping hands with the King of Gondor and they exchanged a few pleasantries, speaking of the dwarf's trip to Gondor. Dreadfully boring ordeal, as he put it.  
  
"I suppose our elf will make a grand entrance at a time of his own choosing," Gimli said gruffly. Aragorn laughed, hiding his own misgivings and mixed feelings.  
  
"I will not have to separate the two of you for the duration of this voyage, will I dwarf?"  
  
Gimli laughed, a deep hearty sound, then went back to helping the sailors, leaving Aragorn to have a look around the ship that would be home until they reached Cedacia.  
  
"Care to see your quarters?" came the voice from behind Aragorn. He turned to face the Captain, Tierny with a smile.  
  
"Certainly. She is a lovely vessel," Aragorn praised. Tierny smiled in response his sea colored eyes alight at the praise.  
  
"Aye, that she is. And you will find no better ship."  
  
Tierny led Aragorn to a large, spacious cabin fit for a-well-king. It was large enough to hold him and his friends, but it was obvious it was intended for him alone.  
  
"This is too much," Aragorn commented turning to look at the Captain. "This looks more like the Captain's cabin."  
  
"Aye, 'tis," Tierny agreed. "But 'twould seem you outrank me and I do not mind giving it up. The others are just nearby, the little ones and the dwarf did not mind sharing, preferred to it seemed. They seem to think the elf will not mind either."  
  
At the mention of Legolas, Aragorn felt his heart speed up a bit. He just nodded.  
  
"I am sure he will not mind either. I could have stayed with them as well, Tierny. Believe me, I have bedded in less comfortable places."  
  
"Would not be fitting my lord. These here are your quarters. As it should be. Now, if you'll be excusing me, I need to tend to things."  
  
"By all means!" Aragorn said, chuckling as the ship's Captain scurried back out. He looked around, before taking a seat on the large, feather bed. It would be very comfortable. The man sighed softly, suddenly feeling very weary though the trip had not even begun! Aragorn stood again, going over to the beautifully carved wooden desk with its chair. Pin, ink and paper were laid out. There was also a closet for any of his clothes and belongings. Gently he ran his hand over the smooth, cool wood and looked out the small, rounded window at the water. He was eager to be off. Where was Legolas? ~He will come.~ Aragorn told himself sternly, to keep out the other doubts that wanted in.  
  
***  
  
The bustle of the docks was almost too much for Legolas' elvish senses. So many men gathered in one place and none of the faces familiar. He dismounted, leading his horse by the reins now. He had not ridden his elvish steed to Gondor, not knowing how long they would be gone.  
  
"Excuse me," he said, in the Common Tongue. "I seek the Fairwinds."  
  
The old woman he had stopped regarded the elf with a mixture of annoyance, for being stopped from her business, and awe because he was an elf-and his beauty shown in the afternoon sunlight. She pointed a wrinkled arm towards a large ship.  
  
"That one there. Now if you'll be excusing me."  
  
Without waiting for Legolas to give her leave, she was gone. He shrugged, not minding, and started his way through the press of bodies, some of them very dirty, towards the ship she had indicated. Indeed, it should have been Legolas' first guess, it was grand enough for a king. He smiled to himself at the thought of that. ~Aragorn is no regular king though~ he thought ~I am sure he thinks it is all too much~  
  
Legolas felt some better, so close to his friends now. The trip to Gondor had been a somber one, filled with thoughts and misgivings as to whether he had made the right decision. Seeing the city laid out before him though, and knowing he was so close to seeing the dear little hobbits, Gimli and Aragorn--~Ah, handsome Aragorn~--again had stilled his racing mind. Yes, he was where he was supposed to be.  
  
"Legolas!"  
  
The elf heard the hobbits before he saw them and soon found himself being pulled along by Merry and Pippin.  
  
"Hello to you, too!" Legolas greeted with a laugh.  
  
"We are waiting on you, you know," Pippin commented. "Aragorn is pacing the deck." That earned him another elbow from Merry. "Choose another side, I am developing a bruise!" Pippin cried in mock indignation.  
  
Legolas looked down at the hobbits.  
  
"Why? I have arrived when I said I would, it just did not happen to be at the same time as the rest of you. Take me to him, if you would, so we can stop his pacing," the elf requested. The hobbits gladly did so, though it was Gimli they encountered before Aragorn. The dwarf greeted Legolas fondly, though with some ribbing none the less.  
  
"Ah elf! Late as usual. How was your visit to Rivendell?"  
  
Legolas smiled softly, but it had a hint of sadness-Gimli took note of this, but did not comment on it.  
  
"It was nice," he said. "Though I am glad to be on the road again I must admit. And I also must confess I have missed you, you stubborn old dwarf."  
  
Legolas got the intended response out of Gimli, a bit of sputtering and him finally moving off to help the sailors, still shaking his head. The elf took in the other men on the ship, noted some of the looks he received, but deigned he would worry on that later. Now, he needed to find Aragorn. He moved quietly about the ship, light on his feet, marveling at the ropes and carvings and seemingly ordered chaos of the whole process. Then, his clear blue eyes were drawn to the ocean and he breathed deeply, smelling the salt, feeling it's call.  
  
"I was beginning to think you were not coming."  
  
Legolas turned quickly, facing Aragorn with a smile.  
  
"Everyone seems to think I am late, did I not say I would arrive today?" he asked incredulously. The King laughed, and he gave Legolas a hardy hug.  
  
"Yes, but the day wears on and we were beginning to wonder. We set sail soon, Legolas. It is good to see you." Aragorn said a smile on his face, it was good to see the elf again.  
  
"Aye. The journey here took a bit longer than anticipated, I had actually thought to arrive before you left your Palace, but it was not to be so."  
  
~Though it is probably best, it grows harder and harder for me to see you and Arwen together~ Legolas thought to himself.  
  
"You still need to tell me what adventure I have signed on for this time, Aragorn. Some would think me foolish coming at your beck and call to run off to a strange land with no idea of what to expect."  
  
Aragorn smiled a rather secretive smile.  
  
"All in due time," he said. "We will speak of these things later-you, myself, Gimli and the hobbits. Can you give me your patience that much longer?"  
  
Legolas sighed but nodded.  
  
"I know nothing but patience when it comes to you, Aragorn," the elf said softly. Aragorn looked at him.  
  
"What was that?" he asked, not sure he had heared what his friend had said.  
  
"Yes, I will give you that much longer before I pester you with questions again. Go, go on about your business of getting us ready to be underway. I think I shall wander about and see what kind of men I have thrown in with."  
  
Aragorn laughed and nodded, giving Legolas a squeeze on the shoulder before moving off to speak with Tierny again. Though he could not help but throw the elf a last glance over his shoulder as he did so. 


	3. Understandings

This story was written with Jaya (JayaKorin@viafamily.com).  
  
1.1 Disclaimer: Middle Earth and its characters belong to Tolkien, no money is made off of this story. And no disrespect is intended.  
  
1.2 Chapter Three -- Understandings  
  
Legolas stood at the prow of the large ship as it rocked gently on the waves, but his blue eyes did not see the sea. The salty wind whipped his long, blond hair about him, mussing his braids. Absently, a slender hand came up to brush them behind his delicately tapered ear. His mind resided elsewhere, far from the journey at hand and his friends aboard the ship, far from any home he had ever known. His brow knitted, deep in thought-a pain etched there that was unmistakable, even in the pale moonlight that lit his flawless, elven features. It always pained Aragorn to see such grief in his friend's face, though the interest wasn't strictly that of a friend. He wondered what haunted Legolas, drew his attention from the sea that had captured his heart from the moment he set eyes on it. The King of Gondor was fairly certain he knew the cause of the distress though, even as he wished to not admit it to himself.  
  
The pang of jealousy that went through Aragorn was rather irrational and he chided himself for it. There was Arwen, waiting at home for him; even if she had in her own way given her consent. It seemed there had always been Arwen and yet... He was fairly certain Legolas shared the feelings he felt, but could they act upon those feelings? The Elven Prince deserved happiness with one free to love him as should be done, with intensity and presence. Aragorn knew that, rationally-but hearts of men (and elves) do not always follow the path of logic. While he knew it caused Legolas pain, Aragorn hadn't been able to surpress the joy when Legolas had responded to his summons, saying he would join the Ranger, the King on his journey with Gimli and the two hobbits, Merry and Pippin. Perhaps Legolas hadn't given his heart as completely as Aragorn feared; was there a chance? After all, the Prince had left his lover behind. In the most final of ways.  
  
***  
  
Legolas smiled up at his lover, a smile full of life and starlight. A smile that could bend the will of the strongest elf, or man. His moon-kissed hair fell about him like a halo on the feathered pillow. His blue eyes danced with passion and laughter. Lord Elrond caressed the Prince's smooth face, the adoration and love apparent in his gaze, but there was no smile there. The seriousness of the Lord of Rivendell made Legolas frown.  
  
"What is it?" he inquired, voice soft and seductive-whether by intent or natural state, Elrond still could not discern. "What troubles you?"  
  
"I intend to pass into the Grey Havens, Legolas," Elrond began, voice hesitant-a state that was most unbefitting and did not sit well in Legolas' heart. He looked away, knowing where this conversation would turn to. "And I wish you to accompany me…"  
  
There it lay between them, nearly a visible thread that could be unraveled with only a few words. Legolas looked away and the strands came undone.  
  
"I cannot." Two simple words. Amazing what damage can be done with words. There was a long silence. Shadows from the fire played over Legolas' fair skin, shadowed Elrond's darker features. Few had seen this side of Elrond and part of him now regretted showing it to the Prince of Mirkwood, though that was not quite the truth either.  
  
"You will not," Elrond said at length. "For it is a choice you make."  
  
The words stung, stung Legolas-mainly because he knew they were true.  
  
"I do love you my lord, but I cannot pass into the West. My time here is not finished. We both knew this the day you took me to your bed all those years ago."  
  
Elrond said nothing, there was nothing to say to Legolas' words. He spoke the truth and despite the Elven Lord's feelings, he would not beg. Tenderly, he kissed Legolas' forehead, determined their final time together would not be spent melancholy and at odds. Elrond had known this day would come. Together they relived memories of flesh and magic.  
  
Less than a fortnight had passed when the messenger arrived. Part of Legolas was glad Aragorn had not come himself-despite their long friendship, he had not told the Ranger of his involvement with Elrond. Despite the feelings they both shared, but never spoke of, or perhaps because of those feelings. Legolas knew Aragorn suspected, though he had never spoken of it, for which the Mirkwood Prince would always be resentful of and grateful for in the same breath. There was Arwen though, always Arwen. Ironic how Legolas found solace in the bed of her father. Though their relationship had proceeded that of Arwen and Aragorn by a good many years, in the manner that Men count years that is.  
  
Legolas had read the letter delivered by the messenger with trembling hands. Aragorn was summoning him, summoning him to join him upon the sea-to a distant land on business not disclosed. Nothing in Middle Earth could have kept Legolas from answering that summons. Not Elrond. Not his father.  
  
Legolas stood on the balcony of Elrond's private chambers, still clutching the letter. His back was to his lover, straight-like the arrows he let fly with deadly precision. Elrond knew that posture well, and he knew nothing he could say would swerve the Elven Prince from the path he had chosen.  
  
"You still love him." It wasn't a question. It had never been a question. Elrond had known it the moment he saw them together, even as perhaps they had not.  
  
"It is not about that," Legolas said softly. "And he is not why I will not pass into the West with you. Please believe that."  
  
Elrond moved closer, laying his hands on Legolas' tense shoulders.  
  
"I do." The admission was nearly a whisper, but sharp elven ears had no trouble hearing. Legolas turned to him, searching Elrond's face.  
  
"Thank you," he said softly. "I did not wish to leave here at odds with you."  
  
"Must you leave so quickly?" A hint of pleading, again unsettling to Legolas-such emotions in Elrond, proud Elrond.  
  
"The summons said quickly. Yes, I think it must be this soon. I also think that is best," Legolas responded, voice gentle. How could Elrond ever so no? Ever feel anger towards one such as this? He gave one short nod.  
  
"Stay with me one more night."  
  
Legolas nodded, bowing his head slightly.  
  
"Yes, my lord."  
  
***  
  
The man who had once been a Ranger, now King of Gondor felt the emotions wash over him ash studied Legolas's profile in the moonlight. The fact that it seemed as if the elf had yet to realize he was there was unsettling.  
  
"Where are you tonight, my friend?" He took the few moments after speaking to watch his friend from closer quarters, noting the changes there.  
  
Aragorn's quiet voice next to him startled Legolas out of his reverie. He was slipping if someone could steal upon him unnoticed, even if that someone was Strider, the Ranger. The elf looked to his friend, but did not meet his eyes, before turning his gaze back to the sea.  
  
"I wonder if perhaps somewhere I should not be," Legolas answered at length, delicate-deceptively delicate-hands resting on the rail of the ship. Aragorn watched him for a moment, giving no response, warring with his own emotions at the elf's words. He knew what he wanted, but was unsure how to broach the subject or of what sort of reaction it might evoke.  
  
"Do you wish to speak of what weighs so heavily upon your mind, my friend?" the King of Gondor finally offered, voice a whisper on the salted wind. Legolas looked at him fully, thinking to himself ~You do not wish to hear what troubles my mind any more than I would wish to hear your problems with Arwen, yet I would listen without question~ Aragorn had never hidden Arwen from him though, as he had hid Elrond.  
  
"I am not certain you would wish to hear it," Legolas finally said, with great hesitation.  
  
"The secret you think hangs between us is not a secret," Aragorn stated simply. "I think the time for riddles is quite passed Greenleaf." Legolas looked at him, and Aragorn noted with satisfaction that it wasn't a look of surprise.  
  
"He wanted me to go into the West with him." A simple, soft statement. There was no need to ask who He was.  
  
"Of course," Aragorn responded, as if it was all so simple. Though he could not have put into words the joy he felt, despite Legolas's own feelings on the matter. Could he really do as Arwen had told him and follow his heart as he longed to do, while his mind screamed at the impossibility of it? "Yet, while it is a boat you sail on, you head polar opposite from the direction of the Havens. Your heart does not belong to Elrond?"  
  
"You know it does not," Legolas whispered, turning his gaze back to the sea, unable to look upon Aragorn as they spoke of such things any longer. "But is not the true reason I would not cross over and you know that as well Aragorn."  
  
"Yes, yes I do. So where does your heart lie?" the Ranger had not been able to resist. He was not sure what motivated his boldness now, what need he had to speak of things they had both let lie for so long, things of which they had lied about to each other as well as too themselves at different points in time. Legolas tensed, but did not turn his gaze to Aragorn.  
  
"Why do you ask things you know the answer to, Aragorn?" the elf inquired, voice betraying no emotion, even as his body language did.  
  
"Because knowing things and hearing them are not the same, Legolas," Aragorn responded, voice quiet but intent, waiting.  
  
"What you ask is unfair and does not matter."  
  
"Does not matter?!" Aragorn repeated, raising his voice a bit. Legolas turned to him, bidding him to please be quiet. The Ranger lowered his voice accordingly, a skill acquired from long years of practice. "How can you say it does not matter?"  
  
"We have gone all these years without speaking of things. Now you would ask me to help you betray Arwen. She is the one you chose, Aragorn. Speaking of such things, no good can come of it."  
  
"And what good has come of denying these things, Legolas?"  
  
"We are still friends, the closest of friends. Without speaking the words, no wedge has been forced between us. That is enough for me," the elf said, his voice still unemotional, but the look in his eyes said more than his voice ever could. Aragorn sighed, reaching to smooth a strand of stray hair from Legolas' face, tucking it behind the elf's delicately pointed ear. Legolas moved away slightly though, hands gripping the railing more tightly now. "Aragorn…"  
  
"Yes?" the man responded softly, one hand still resting on Legolas' shoulder. His gray eyes intense as he watched, betraying little of the inner turmoil he felt.  
  
"Do not do this, do not push," there was the slightest hint of pleading in the elf's voice; it unsettled Aragorn to hear it. ~For I do not know if I can resist you if you push~ The last he did not say aloud, could not admit. Aragorn's hand trailed from Legolas' shoulder, down to his lower back, where he massaged ever so slightly. It amazed Legolas how he responded to the gentlest of touches from the man, like some young, star- struck lover who could not control himself. That was why this could never be, if he let this in, it would cloud his judgment. He shook his head, turning to face Aragorn, displacing the hand on his back. "NO."  
  
Aragorn looked at Legolas silently, expression open, feelings clear--no longer hiding. It was almost more than the elf could bear, but he could not look away. Then it happened, the urge they had both resisted for so long. Aragorn closed the distance, taking Legolas into his arms, lightly kissing his lips. Legolas' hands came up, to push Aragorn away--but he did not, could not. Instead he pulled him closer, and the kiss deepened. It was Legolas who broke it first though, pulling away to take an unsteady step back.  
  
"No," he repeated turning, walking from the prow, away from Aragorn-- possibly the only person he'd ever truly loved, with everything he had, in his whole immortal life. He could feel the eyes on him, and he willed Aragorn not to follow. The man did not, at least not right then. Legolas passed by the sleeping hobbits, who were a tangle of limbs and blankets, but not even that lifted his spirits at the moment. He sought a corner of the boat where no others currently were, though he may have had a better chance of avoiding further conversation by seeking out company. The elf did not want company though, he needed to think. He knew things could not be left as they were now, this journey had only just begun and could not be spent with he and Aragorn trying to avoid one another. Well, Legolas trying to avoid Aragorn anyway.  
  
***  
  
Argorn let Legolas go though his eyes followed the elf's lithe form as he walked away. When too many other things came in the way of his vision he turned out to the sea once again. Letting his eyes caress the silver tipped waves, bright with the moonlight. But he wasn't really seeing them. They were simply there, another factor of the environment around him.  
  
~Did I do the right thing?~ He wondered, trying to shake it off. ~Doubts do not become you Aragorn.~ his mind chidded him softly. ~What's done is done, for better or for worse.~ Aragorn knew that it was true, after all he could not very well take back what had just happened.  
  
"Perhaps it is possible, after all," he whispered to the winds, Legolas had responded even if he had pushed him away in the end. "Arwen forgive me, for if I do not follow my heart now..." Aragorn let his quiet voice trail off into silence, his thoughts not needing to be voiced aloud.  
  
***  
  
Legolas wasn't sure how much time had passed, but he felt Aragorn before he heard him speak.  
  
"Arwen and I had a discussion before I left," the man began quietly. "And we have come to an understanding, perhaps it will make things easier between us…"  
  
Legolas looked at Aragorn, expression unreadable. First he wanted to declare his feelings and now they were back to Arwen?  
  
"Aragorn, I think your time upon Middle Earth has finally addled your brain," the elf commented. "First you come to me…."  
  
"Let me speak, Legolas," Aragorn interrupted softly but sternly. It was more of a command than a request.  
  
"Yes King Aragorn," the elf said, voice flat. Aragorn sighed, but chose to ignore the comment it would only cause more problems otherwise.  
  
"She knows Legolas, just as Elrond knew."  
  
That certainly got Legolas' attention, he quickly looked at Aragorn, opening his mouth to speak. The King raised a hand to silence the elf before he could interrupt him again. He needed to say what he had to say.  
  
"I told her naught. I did not have to. She would see me happy, even at the cost of her own happiness. Yet, I do love her."  
  
"That is good to know," Legolas said, and he meant it. "Considering what she has given up for you. If you intend to use Arwen's mixed blessing to us as an argument, it falls short my dear friend."  
  
"Legolas, she knows my mind and my heart rest with you, even when you are not near. She knows. Things going on as they have been-it is noble, but it is misery for all." Aragorn watched Legolas for a moment, before turning his gaze out to the sea that spread away into the distance around them.  
  
"Why should we do as we will, leaving her the only one in misery?"  
  
"You are a stubborn elf," Aragorn chided softly.  
  
"I do not consider it stubbornness, Aragorn," Legolas said softly.  
  
"I know," the King responded. He looked to the elf again, gently turning the fair face to him. Legolas met his eyes, and Aragorn could see he wanted to give in. "Just follow your heart, and we can see how things progress while we are on this trip…"  
  
Aragorn gently kissed Legolas again, this time the elf did not pull away. When they parted, his eyes were troubled though.  
  
"If we do that, I do not know if I can go back to how things were before…"  
  
"Perhaps we will not have to." Aragorn's voice was so soft, it was nearly carried away by the wind, but the elf's sharp ears heard.  
  
"Perhaps," Legolas whispered, touching Aragorn's face fondly. 


	4. Day to Day

This story was written with Jaya (JayaKorin@viafamily.com).  
  
Disclaimer: Middle Earth and its characters belong to Tolkien, no money is made off of this story. And no disrespect is intended.  
  
  
  
Chapter Four – Day to Day  
  
A few of the sailors were not sure what to make of Legolas. There was talk already, mostly talk borne of ignorance regarding of elves. He was unnerving to them, wandering about the ship through the night when the rest of the company slept, save for those on watch. It was true, elves did not need as much sleep, but Legolas had been restless even for an elf. Already, he had heard them talk, when they thought he could not. Apparently, some of them had not taken into account the keen hearing of elves. It was mostly harmless chatter. They did not trust him, or he made them uncomfortable, things of that nature. Legolas just did his best to stay out of the way of those particular sailors. One person he really had taken a liking to was Tierny. The Captain was open and likeable, and very competent. If he did not understand something, he was not too prideful to ask. He was also willing to listen to others, if they seemed to think they had a better solution. Yes, Legolas liked the salty Captain's company. He asked much about the elves, and Legolas found himself glad to give the information. Tierny's acceptance of the elf seemed to have put some of the other sailor's at ease as well, much to Legolas' relief.  
  
Things were still uncertain with Aragorn, but not strained. Legolas had spent the first night in his cabin, they had done nothing more than talk really. Aragorn had told him a bit about why they were heading for Cedacia, but not all—as he did not want to go over it more than once. Legolas had not minded, had preferred hearing about how things had been with the man since their last meeting. Aragorn however had fallen asleep and Legolas had spent some very pleasant time simply watching the man in his slumber, before taking up wandering about the ship again. The elf was still rather confused, but he was quickly coming to accept that Aragorn was right, that perhaps he should follow his heart…  
  
***  
  
Legolas sat perched on the desk in Aragorn's quarters, Merry and Pippin were in a tumble on the bed, Gimli stood by the door, and Aragorn sat in the chair by the desk. He seemed more at ease now that they were well away from Gondor, more alive.  
  
"I am sure you would all like an explanation as to where we are going," the King began. Legolas just rolled his eyes, the hobbits did not really care one way or the other, but Gimli spoke up.  
  
"Right, we do. And about time too, if you ask me. Which I know you did not."  
  
"Yes would have sufficed," Merry mumbled, Gimli gave him quite a withering look and the hobbit just shrugged, stifling a yawn.  
  
"Whatever it is, hurry. I am tired." Pippin mumbled his agreement to that sentiment, not bothering to try and hide his own yawn.  
  
"As I was saying…" Aragorn interrupted, before the conversation totally got away from him. "We are going to meet with the King of Cedacia, to perhaps discuss an alliance between his land and Gondor."  
  
"A diplomatic mission?" Gimli asked. "Why did you need us for that?"  
  
Aragorn looked at the dwarf with a half smile. ~Trust a dwarf to always want to get straight to the point.~ He thought to himself.  
  
"Perhaps I just wanted your company and the presence of those I trust most?" the man responded his gray eyes hidden by the shadows of the room.  
  
"Tell us Aragorn," Legolas then began. "How does this land view species not their own? You have an elf, two hobbits and a dwarf in your company. How much do you know of Cedacia?"  
  
"Tierny is Cedacian, he was born and raised there. He worked for a time in the King's Guard, before he became a sailor and came to Gondor. I would trust him with my life, and I trust his judgment. He speaks highly of King Erides." Aragorn leaned back in his chair letting his gaze slide silently over each of his companions, lingering slightly longer upon Legolas.  
  
"Do you think it wise to travel without any of your Guard? You are a King now, not just a Ranger," Legolas pressed. Aragorn smiled at him.  
  
"We are not totally without defenses, you do not think these sailors were chosen just for their sea fairing ways do you? This is not a totally official visit, I wanted it as low profile as I could manage. You also know how I hate traveling with a whole contingency. This will be plenty. Tierny speaks their language and he will be our guide. King Erides' men will await us when we dock in the city of Cirlaneva. His palace lies not far from the city. And do I not have you four, to help me keep an eye on things?"  
  
"That is all very well, but you did not answer the elf's question. How do these people view our kind?" The Dwarf spoke up again, his gruff voice a rumble in his throat.  
  
"I never thought I would hear you put an elf and a dwarf in the same sentence and say 'our kind', Gimli." Legolas teased. Gimli shot him a look that could have melted mithiril and the elf just laughed. The sound warmed Aragorn's heart. He was very glad to have his friends by his side again, he had missed their company more then he cared to admit, even to himself.  
  
"Tierny did not seem to have any misgivings when I told him the lot of you would be accompanying us. I trust he would have, had he thought any of you would have come to any harm, by the virtue of your race." Aragorn said in response, setting the first two legs of his chair back on the ground. He bent forward, clasping his hands together as he leaned on his knees. "Had I thought there was a danger to you, I would not have asked you to accompany me."  
  
Legolas was quiet for a moment.  
  
"Then that is good enough for me. I trust your judgment, Aragorn. What kind of talks will these be?"  
  
"Of that I am not completely certain. Most likely trade agreements and the like. I must admit the invitation sent by King Erides seemed almost to be one of pleasantries, perhaps a way for our countries to become more knowledgeable of one another. I was simply overjoyed to be able to be on the road again, while still fulfilling my duties as King. An adventure, if you will." He shrugged. "And of course to get away without all the fan fair for a while."  
  
"So when we heard there was not to be much danger involved, we insisted on coming," Pippin piped up. "It will be fun!" He grinned at the others.  
  
Legolas made no response to that, there was something gnawing at his mind, something he could not place.  
  
"We should be the talk of this man's court," Gimli commented at length. "Two hobbits, a dwarf and an elf accompanying the King of a distant land!"  
  
That got a laugh even out of Legolas, dispelling the pensive mood that had quickly been settling over him.  
  
"I hope they have something good to eat." Pippin said, winking at Merry. Which got a smile out of the rest of them.  
  
"All you think about is your stomach." Merry retorted, popping Pippin over the head with a pillow.  
  
"Look who's talking, you aren't any better!" Cried the other indignantly.  
  
***  
  
"I dun trust 'im," the scratchy voice announced quietly. "You ought never to trust an elf. Tricky creatures, they be. And the way the King hangs about him, it just ain't natural."  
  
There was the sound of a cup being thumbed down, almost angrily.  
  
"Watch your words, Milnor," another sailor admonished. "He is friend to the King and it is not our business to question that, only to do our jobs. The elf's been nothing but polite to all of us. He seems odd to us, but I am sure it is just the way of his people."  
  
Milnor snorted in response, looking to where the elf stood gazing out into the sea.  
  
"Ways of his people my foot," he responded as he spat over the side of the ship. "I dun trust 'im, I say. And neither should King Aragorn."  
  
"You just mind your own business," the same sailor advised quietly. Milnor just grumbled a bit.  
  
***  
  
Perhaps they thought he could not hear their words, and truly, no other on the ship would have, but Legolas heard and sighed. It should not bother him, but it did. It was not their dislike of him that gave his heart trouble, it was the fact that it was altering their opinion of Aragorn. He did not let on he had heard, of course, and he still treated all the sailors with the same amount of courtesy, they actually fascinated him. Some did not mind talking with him, answering his questions. He would share drinks and words with Captain Tierny often, and his second mate, Verin. They seemed to truly enjoy his company. Aragorn would join them as well, Legolas had gotten to where he looked forward to the meetings. Being alone with Aragorn was something he both craved and tried to avoid, knowing if they were left to their own devices for long, just how their relationship would progress.  
  
The elf listened to the wind, to the sound of the water. A storm was coming, he could feel it. It was still distant, as of yet, just a shadow of a whisper in his mind, and he said nothing. Storms came up at sea quite often, he would assume, and the sailors aboard the Fairwinds were an experienced lot. Still, it troubled Legolas…  
  
***  
  
Sitting in the cabin, Aragorn was staring out the window. His elbows propped upon the desk that sat beneath the glass panels that looked upon the ocean. There was a hint of white caps upon the waves as they crested. The sea had been calm so far upon their journey, but it now looked as if it might take a different approach to their passage.  
  
He wasn't really thinking of anything as he sat there. The one candle that was still lit in the room flickered slowly back and forth, some draft from under the door causing it to dance at its teasing. Aragorn wasn't sure how long he'd been sitting there, not that it really mattered. He couldn't sleep, for some reason it would not come, not this night.  
  
Occasionally he could hear the murmur of the sailors' quiet voices outside his door. He'd considered going out to have a drink and perhaps a bit of quiet talk with some of the others, but had not gotten up to do so yet. Almost as if something held him there to his seat, holding him captive in the dim light of the cabin.  
  
Aragorn reflected on the last few days, with a little smile. It was good to be away from Gondor for a while, not that he didn't care for his country, for the people there because he did, but his soul still longed for the travel he was used to, the quiet solitude of his days as a Ranger. Though even now, as he thought about it, he wasn't sure that was what he really wanted. It was more the thought of companions who understood, and did not bother to follow the silly customs and rituals that were present in the every day life as a King. They were tiring and dull, and seemed so false and empty.  
  
Slowly his thoughts strayed away from that to something else, to someone else: Legolas. Aragorn thought of the elf with a smile. He wasn't sure what he had expected when he had approached the other, how he would be received. The King was happy with how it had eventually turned out, even if things were still rather undecided.  
  
~Maybe this will work.~ he thought, reaching over to extinguish the candle.  
  
Standing up he walked over to the window, pressing a calloused palm softly against the cool pane of the glass. He stood there for a long few moments, it was good to not have to hide anymore. It was as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Even if Aragorn didn't know where things would end, he was willing to wait and see. 


	5. The Storm

This story was written with Jaya (JayaKorin@viafamily.com).  
  
Disclaimer: Middle Earth and its characters belong to Tolkien, no money is made off of this story. And no disrespect is intended.  
  
  
  
1.1 Chapter Five – The Storm  
  
Everyone on the ship had known the storm was coming, Legolas even before the seasoned sailors. As the most sensitive to weather on the ship, the elf had spoken up in warning, whether through distrust of his tidings, or lack of options, little had been done to divert their course. When the storm hit with such intensity, Legolas knew then that it would not have mattered either way, the storm seemed to stretch on forever. Fate would have brought it across their paths before the end.  
  
Legolas now stood at the prow, pale hair whipping about him in the darkness as the storm's winds buffeted him. The night was black as ink--black as death--before him. Not even his elven sight could penetrate the gloom. The howl of the wind sounded almost like a living creature, coming for the travelers. Every now and again he would catch a glimpse of white as waves crashed upon one another. The elf was soaked through, but still he stood-- listening, straining to hear anything other than wind. He felt helpless and wanted to give aid in some way, though no chance had yet presented itself.  
  
A hand on his arm made Legolas jump--the gale was so fierce that he had not heard the person approach. The elf turned quickly finding himself faced with a very weather beaten Aragorn. His dark hair plastered against his face, gray eyes worried.  
  
"Go below with the halfings!" he urged loudly. But before Legolas had a chance to say anything, another wave plowed into the ship. Both the elf and man stumbled, clutching at one another, and what was left of the rigging, to keep their balance.  
  
Legolas shook his head stubbornly.  
  
"There is nothing you can do above!" Aragorn insisted one of his hands still clutching Legolas's shoulder tightly.  
  
"Nor below. I have a bad feeling, Aragorn," Legolas shouted over the shrieking wind. The others may have ignored Legolas, but Aragorn had learned over the years that when the elf voiced his concerns, they were usually not in vain. "Though if we cannot weather this storm on such a large ship, I know not how we expect to weather it in small boats…" The elf swept his hand in the direction of the two lifeboats hung on the sides of the large ship. Both of them looking worse for the beating the storm was giving them.  
  
They had already lost the main sail and much of the rigging. Only the tattered flag still fluttered valiantly upon the mast, high in the storm. It however could not be seen in the pitch darkness, except when the heavens seemed to split open with the brilliant flashes of lightning. These only lasted long enough to get a fleeting glimpse of another swell to come, and a sense of despair at seeing the others lined up behind it.  
  
Aragorn made no response to Legolas' grim observation. It was not something he desired to think of, yet. In his heart he knew Legolas was right and yet hoped that the elf was wrong in his fear.  
  
"Please go below, Legolas," the man pleaded again tightening his fingers on Legolas's shoulder. "If for no other reason than my peace of mind!"  
  
In that moment that another huge wave crashed down upon the ship, submerging both Aragorn and Legolas for a moment. Water washed over the deck, and off the sides of the ship, back into the angry seas. The pull of it was strong, hungry and needy.  
  
It all happened in mere seconds, though it seemed like an eternity to Legolas as the water lingered all around him, suffocating. Finally, the elf was able to struggle back to his feet as it had cleared, frantically looking for Aragorn, who was also attempting to find his own footing once again. The other man looked up for a moment and their eyes met. Legolas needed no more prompting, he headed away from the side of the ship, but he pulled Aragorn along with him.  
  
***  
  
Legolas had been right, the ship was already starting to flounder, taking on more water than the crew could displace. It was a loosing battle and they all knew it. They could not help to keep up with the in pour of seawater. Yet what chance did they stand in the lifeboats? In the end there was truly no choice, each option grim, but the small boats offered the best chance of survival.  
  
The elf grimly helped fill the lifeboats with things they hoped they would be able to keep with them: provisions, the few things they brought with them, their weapons. Reluctantly, Legolas secured his daggers, bow and quiver in the boat, along with his cloak. There was little else he was concerned with saving-- aside from his friends.  
  
The halflings huddled in as much safety as they could, waiting--nearly washed overboard every time a large wave crashed. It was no small effort for the big people to keep their footings. To be heard over the screaming wind, they had to yell to one another, and the elf found he was picking himself up off the slippery deck more often than he cared for. Aragorn was fairing no better and Legolas felt the worry that had been clutching at him turning into fear. How could they possibly be safer in the tiny boats? Yet, what choice had they the ship was beginning to sink beneath them even now.  
  
Aragorn was next to him once again, the nearness gave him comfort--despite the confusion the elf still felt on the subject of their relationship. The man leaned near to be heard.  
  
"It is time Legolas," he said, his gaze intense and worried. "We must go…"  
  
Legolas' attention was drawn from Aragorn though as he finally heard something over the wind, something no one else heard: A sickening sound, the sound of cracking wood. He scanned the horizon above him, desperately looking for the source of the sound.  
  
"Legolas," Aragorn repeated, just as the elf's eyes found what he sought- the mast was cracking under the onslaught of nature. The broken pieces began to fall down, alerting the rest of the crew to their eminent danger, many whipped around like flying daggers by the gale force winds. Above them all the mast swayed in the wind, the last shreds of the rigging still holding it up for a few moments. Legolas heard Aragorn cry out at the sight, but the elf was already gone from his side--headed for where the halfings were huddled, not realizing what danger they were in yet. Aragorn struggled after him, knowing he would not get there in time, having neither the speed nor the agility.  
  
"Merry! Pippin!" he cried. Legolas moved quickly--quickly enough to save the hobbits, to get them out of harm's way by pushing them through the cabin's open door, but not quickly enough to save himself. There was no chance as the biggest wave yet came crashing down upon the boat, bringing the mast down with it. Tearing the ropes that had held it up for the last few seconds of its life. Then it was over and slowly the waters receded.  
  
"Legolas!" Aragorn screamed as the elf fell under the broken wood and disappeared beneath the wave. He stood, frozen to the spot unable to move, horrified. When the water cleared, Legolas was nowhere to be found, only splinters of the broken mast and even those were quickly disappearing. The King ran to where the elf had been, to the damaged railing where the destroyed mast had landed, frantically calling the elf's name again, he prepared to jump into the water after him. Aragorn was not given the chance though--Tierny and another sailor grabbed the man, pulling him back.  
  
"You will only get yerself killed!" one exclaimed. "'E is gone! Washed over, there's no 'elping him now, not in this storm. But still 'ope for the others. Don't be foolish!"  
  
Aragorn struggled against the sailors as he was dragged to the boats, his tears lost in the wash of seawater and rain.  
  
"We must go!" Tierny insisted urgently, knowing that the Fairwinds would not last much longer.  
  
The hobbits were already in the boat, shocked and unmoving, staring with wide eyes at the place where Legolas had been. Gimli was as close to running off after Legolas as Aragorn was, but he knew jumping into the violent sea after the elf would only result in two deaths…he sent a prayer to whatever god happened to be listening to let Legolas' elven strength save him, but Gimli had a sinking feeling he would never see his friend again, even as he reached over to help Tierny pull Aragorn into the boat… ~Legolas...~  
  
***  
  
The world was blackness to Legolas, black and cold. He tried to fight his way back to the surface, but it seemed he did not know which way that was. His head hurt immensely, the salt in the gash he had gained from the broken mast was the only thing keeping him conscious. The elf struggled, seeking the break in the water, seeking his way back to air. ~Fitting,~ he thought, as he started to succumb to the pain and lack of air ~That the thing that called me with its Siren's Song shall be my death...~ then the elf knew nothing else of the world… 


	6. Arrival

This story was written with Jaya (JayaKorin@viafamily.com).  
  
Disclaimer: Middle Earth and its characters belong to Tolkien, no money is made off of this story. And no disrespect is intended.  
  
  
  
1.1 Chapter 6 - Arrival  
  
Somehow they had managed to lash the two lifeboats together, to keep them from getting separated in the storm. None of those left, for not all had made it through the battering of the giant waves, were quite sure how they had made it out. There had been no light and no sign of hope as the storm raged on all around them. Yet here they were, floating only a little ways off from the coast.  
  
It had seemed like hours before a dim light was finally seen along the horizon. Though it was nothing more then a touch of gray for many long hours as the boiling clouds overhead still blocked out most of the sunlight that tried to find a way to shine. Slowly it had grown and the clouds had begun to thin, ever so slightly.  
  
That was when Pippin had spotted it. All through the night the two Hobbits had been huddled together in the front of the boats, between the seat and the small storage compartment. It helped to keep their small forms from being tossed into the seas by the hungry waves. No one had said anything, there was nothing to say, until Pippin reached over to poke Merry. His voice so soft that no one other than the other Hobbit had heard, then in a louder voice he'd said.  
  
"I think there's something over there."  
  
Looking up Tierny stared into the gloom that still hung about them.  
  
"Well bless my soul little Hobbit." He cried, which caused the others to look up from their thoughts. "You're right, there is land, we might survive this storm after all."  
  
~Not all of us.~ The thought flitted through his mind, though there was no light to shine upon his dark thoughts, as the sun was beginning to shine down upon them through the clouds. They were still the black of death that had been heralded by the storm.  
  
***  
  
Eventually the initial excitement brought on by the sighting of land began to wear off. It would seem that lady luck was finally with them again as the current that had been drawing the boat since some time the night before continued to bring them steadily on towards the land. Once they were close enough, Tierny had called the men to bring out the oars that had been carefully stowed in their places on the sides of the boat during, so that they would not be lost in the confusion and violence.  
  
Time slipped slowly by, but at last the keel of the small lifeboats did slide roughly across the sand. They stuck, and for a moment no one moved as if it wasn't quite real. Two little someones however were not about to let the land get away from them. Jumping to his feet Pippin pulled Merry after him and jumped from the front of the boat onto the sandy shore of Cedacia.  
  
After that things moved fairly quickly. The men began to unload the things from the boats, since they would be of no use to them now. They would have to carry what they could with them.  
  
"Come Aragorn." Tierny said quietly, putting a hand on the King's shoulder. "We must go, if he survived he would have been swept this way by the same current that bore us." Even as Tierny spoke the words, he had no hope that the elf had survived in those seas. Anything that washed up would be well beyond hope.  
  
Aragorn shook Tierny's hand away, the simple comfort sending his mind racing too quickly back to other things. He knew he could not afford to let the grief get hold of him, there would be time for that later, when everyone was safe. Without a word he stood up, jumping into the knee-deep water to wade to shore. Tierny watched him go with a sigh, shaking his head.  
  
Glancing at Gimli, who was carefully making his way towards the front of the boat, face set in a grim expression.  
  
"Should I go after him?" the captain asked quietly.  
  
"Let him have a moment, he will not do anything unwise." Gimli said gruffly, fighting his own tears as he stepped over the side into the water.  
  
~I hope you are right Master Dwarf.~ Tierny thought, making sure that the men were doing as they had been told, that progress was being made to unload the what was left of the cargo of the Fairwinds. He stepped onto the beach once more, and headed towards the tree line to have a look around. He hoped to find something that would help him figure out where they were exactly.  
  
***  
  
Grinning Milnor looked up into the sky as he walked back down towards the two small boats. It was good to be back on his native soil again, he had been gone far too long. As he watched gulls dipping in the sky, and felt the breeze he knew he belonged in Cedacia, not Middle Earth. Nodding to Sintre, he took the box the other man was carrying.  
  
"'Tis good ta be back." Milnor commented in Cedacian.  
  
"Sure is." Sintre agreed readily. "I don't think I'll leave 'ere again."  
  
"If Capt'n Tierny asks ya to, you'll go."  
  
"Mayhap I would, mayhap I wouldn't. Right now I just count meself lucky to be alive."  
  
"Too bad that blond elf went over the side," Milnor then added. Sintre raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Though you didn't trust him?"  
  
"Oh, I didn't, but that don't mean he couldn't have been…useful…" Milnor winked at Sintre, who smiled knowingly.  
  
***  
  
Aragorn didn't look back as he walked silently up the beach. The wind pushed him farther away, as it came whipping in off the sea, a remnant of last night's storm. It was a bitter reminder, as were the sounds of the waves that crashed endlessly upon the shores of the beach. It was like the sound of the dead marching on, he could not get it out of his mind, even as the trees closed in around him, reminding him. The King did not know where he was going or when he would stop or if he would even stop at all. In the end it was the dropping embrace of a gnarled old willow tree that made him falter.  
  
The tree seemed to reach out to him, as if to enfold him in its arms, to offer comfort for the loss of one of her children. A grandmotherly sort of tree, the kind that speaks of age and wisdom, one that had seen many things come and go. A tree weathered which had many storms and spent much time watching the shores. She seemed to whisper in a creaking voice, as her long fingers brushed against his body. Aragorn shivered slowly walking forward to lean against the massive trunk, his face dark with grief. Behind him, the sound of the sea grew more faint, but the winds still whispered his name. ~Legolas.~ Sliding to the group Aragorn put his head in his hands and for a few moments he let the rush of feelings envelop him. And in those moments, he cried.  
  
It wasn't until later that Gimli found him still sitting there, unmoved. The dwarf hesitated for a moment, but never having been one for subtly, he didn't turn back.  
  
"Aragorn, it's time to go."  
  
Moving for the first time since he had arrived, the King looked up-- his eyes now dry and his face grim. He nodded, standing up without a word, and moved towards the beach, only to be stopped by a hand on his arm.  
  
"We all feel his lost." Gimli said in a low voice.  
  
"You think I do not know this?"  
  
"No, I think you would bear this burden alone."  
  
Breaking away from him, Aragorn left his last words hanging in the air between them.  
  
"I am alone, Gimli, son of Gloin."  
  
With that the King moved back to the beach leaving the dwarf to follow him. He knew he had been harsh the Gimli, the dwarf had only been trying to help, in his own gruff way. Aragorn could not bring himself to face it though, nor the pain that seemed to eat at him from the inside. So he buried it. Striding swiftly across the beach, Tierny came to meet him. Aragorn did not miss the appraising gaze the Captain gave him, but he did not acknowledge it either.  
  
"Gimli said you were ready to go." Aragorn stated his tone slightly clipped.  
  
"Aye," Tierny nodded. "There is a small village not far from here through the forest. I was able to learn of our location from the people there. It will take us only a matter of days to reach Cirlaneva, depending on how much distance we can cover each day."  
  
Aragorn nodded.  
  
"Let us go then, in haste."  
  
"Your Majesty..." The Captain stopped.  
  
"What is it Tierny?"  
  
"Never mind..." Tierny looked away. "Move out!" He called to the sailors gathered around, his gaze straying towards where Gimli stood at the edge of the forest. Pippin and Merry were already making their way up the beach towards him. Even the lively hobbits were more subdued in the warm sun, somber in the face of their own grief.  
  
***  
  
Legolas stirred, groaning softly as the slight movement made his whole body protest in pain, specifically his head. He opened his eyes slowly, closing them with a wince as bright sunlight met them. The elf lay still for a few moments longer, trying to collect his thoughts. What had happened? Slowly, it came back. The storm, the hobbits, a wave, then…nothing. Where were the others? Legolas sat up quickly, regretting it, but clenching his teeth against the pain and managing it. He opened his clear eyes and squinted against the harsh light of day. The sea lapped gently at the shore, and at him. He was on land. That in itself seemed a miracle that the elf had no explanation for. Legolas knew he had been separated from Aragorn and the others, they had still been on the sinking boat when he was swept over. Had they made it? The elf pushed the thoughts away before they could manifest into panic.  
  
The elf's clothes were tattered and covered in sand. His normally straight, tamed hair was rather wild and slightly matted with blood from the gash on his forehead. He was covered in various bruises and scratches, those were only minor-and the gash on his forehead was already beginning to close, thanks to the accelerated healing of his species. With a sigh, he drew his legs up beneath him trying to sort things out and decide what needed to be done now. He was alone, in a strange land and not even Aragorn had known the people's beliefs/knowledge of the existence of elves. This could get interesting…  
  
Water. He needed water-water to drink and water to clean himself. Perhaps now was not the time to be thinking of baths, but he knew it would make him feel better and help clear his head. So, struggling to his feet and finally finding his land legs again, the elf picked his way carefully through the sand-leaving no footprints. The only evidence he had ever been there being the place where he had washed up, and soon that too would be gone.  
  
Legolas did not have far to go in his quest for fresh water. At the edge of the shore line, a thick forest began-that at least was a comfort, though the trees were strange to him, and he did not know their songs. He was met with their curiosity, and the feeling was one of welcoming. At least the land did not seem unfamiliar with the Elder Race. It was their song he followed to the nearby freshwater spring. The elf kept to the shadows and cover of underbrush, making naught a sound, nor disturbing a leaf. His ears and eyes were watchful of the approaching of anything, specifically that of Man…he felt dizzy by the time he reached the water, slowly pulling off his boots-followed by his tunic, shirt and leggings. With a pained sound, he slid into the warm water. Deft fingers undid the messy braids in his pale hair and he washed away the blood and salt and grime, but not the feeling of apprehension and fear gnawing at his mind. ~You have been in much worse places than this~ Legolas chided himself. ~So just calm down~  
  
The elf was tempted to linger in the water, but he did not. He already felt much better, though his head still hurt something fierce, it was manageable. Legolas left the water, pulling back on his somewhat battered clothes and running his fingers through his pale hair, working the knots out. As he rebraided it, he tried to decide what to do next, but that decision was made for him. Sounds of Men approaching, sounds that it did not take Elven ears to discern. Legolas quickly rose to his feet, poised for flight up the nearest tree, but something made him hold his ground. Aragorn had been expected in this country, here on official business. Perhaps he should see who approached, and try to gain help from them. Though, he was not naïve enough to believe that even if the powers that ran the country were friendly, that all of its inhabitants would be as well. Still, his choices were to face them or to hide and be no better off. Though there was one that the elf did not consider in his weariness: hide until you get an impression of them.  
  
Legolas finished lacing his tunic, trying to look as presentable as one can who has been tossed about the ocean for quite some time. His fingers itched for his bow, or even the daggers that usually accompanied his quiver on his back, but his weapons had been left in the boat…secured. Legolas did not feel very secure at the moment. He looked rather like a tattered angel standing next to the spring in the dappled sunlight. Anyone in Middle Earth would have been in awe of the sight, but Legolas was no longer in Middle Earth.  
  
It was a large group of men, at least to Legolas-there were at least 20 of them. Around five of them passed through the trees first, stopping when they saw Legolas. All were dark of hair, eye and skin and they seemed to regard the elf with much suspicion. When they spoke, Legolas realized he had a new problem. He understood nothing of what they said.  
  
"I am in need of your help," the elf said in the Common Tongue of Middle Earth. If the people of this land had much dealing with Middle Earth, perhaps one of them would speak the language. Legolas met with drawn swords though and he froze. Apparently not, and apparently they did not fancy outsiders. He eyed the trees, why had he not placed himself closer to a tree? "I mean you no harm…"  
  
The men came closer, and Legolas dare not move, lest they attack. He could not run across water and more and more men were coming from the woods until the elf found himself surrounded. He sighed but held his ground, not wishing for this little adventure to end impaled on the end of a sword. They were conversing back and forth in their language, ignoring Legolas for the moment-he took that opportunity to make a dash for the trees…if only he could reach the trees…  
  
It was not to be though, the men were quicker than they looked, and his own quick movements brought a wave of dizziness over the elf and he was caught. It took four men to get him to the ground, and they received quite a few vicious kicks and injuries from the cornered elf. Legolas did not give in until he found the tip of a sword at his throat. He stared up at the man holding the sword, clear blue eyes defiant. Then things took a strange turn indeed.  
  
"Who are you?" he asked in the Common Tongue. It was rather broken, and oddly accented, but Legolas understood it.  
  
"I am from Middle Earth," Legolas responded, not daring to move, as the sword had not left his throat. The man peered more closely, then smiled. He hissed something quickly to the others in his own language. The elf was hauled to his feet none too gently. The apparent leader leaned in close to Legolas.  
  
"The others, they think you are some kind of demon. I know what you are. You are profit." 


	7. Doubts

This story was written with Jaya (JayaKorin@viafamily.com).  
  
Disclaimer: Middle Earth and its characters belong to Tolkien, no money is made off of this story. And no disrespect is intended.  
  
Chapter 7 – Doubts  
  
Legolas was fast losing hope, but the anger at his situation still burned bright in him. He did not speak the language of these men, but he was not stupid, and he knew where he was being taken. There was also their leader, a vile man named Brolin, who spoke enough of the Common Tongue to make sure that Legolas knew exactly what his fate was to be. He knew the name of the city they spoke of though, Cirlaneva. It was the city the Fairwinds had been heading for. Again, the elf's thoughts turned to Aragorn and the others, had they survived? He hoped so for it was the only bit of hope he really had to hang on to in a hopeless situation. Not that Legolas expected to be rescued, they probably feared him dead, but if they were alive, that would perhaps be enough. The elf knew he would most likely never find out.  
  
The men were very harsh to the elf. Half of them feared him, which can, and did, spawn violence. The other half had other ideas for him, but Brolin would keep them at bay. It was not out of kindness, no not that. It was his desire to not see his acquisition lose any value in the trip to Cirlaneva. The men found other ways to amuse themselves with Legolas, ways of causing pain that would leave no lasting marks. When he would not respond, or cry out, it only angered them further. Legolas noted, with satisfaction, that a few times some of his tormentors had received blows themselves. This would happen after they got too rough with him in their anger.  
  
As they drew ever closer to the city Legolas felt panic rising in him. His arms were bound tightly behind his back and he was dragged along, stumbling, by a makeshift collar around his slender neck. He had never been so humiliated in his long life. What troubled the elf most, was that the people they passed on the road seemed to take no notice of what was going on. Some stared openly, but it was not a stare of pity, but one of appraisal. Was this practice so commonplace among the Cedacians? The thought chilled Legolas. ~Ordained slavery? What kind of place has Aragorn been led to?~  
  
Legolas huddled where he had been left for the night, as comfortable as he could be with his arms still bound behind his back. His half-closed eyes followed the men keeping watch over him, to make sure he did not try to escape. They were wise to keep more than one guard on him, even bound the elf would have taken any chance he was given to escape. He curled into a ball as best he could, closing his eyes, trying to rest. Sleep finally came over him, borne of exhaustion. It was not peace he drifted off into, but it was sleep.  
  
***  
  
Legolas greeted Elrond with a kiss on the cheek. No one else was about, so Legolas had no fear of being caught. He still did not quite understand why the elven lord wished to hide their relationship so, but he would respect it-as he respected Elrond.  
  
"Greenleaf, you have been gone from this household too long," Elrond said fondly, caressing Legolas' fair skin, fingers trailing down his smooth cheek.  
  
"Thranduil would have me stay by his side, to learn more of the ways of Mirkwood, but I do manage to get away," the elven prince responded, a light in his eyes that Elrond had missed.  
  
"Your father should know by now you will not be caged…"  
  
As the words left Elrond's mouth-caged-the skies seemed to darken and Legolas felt a chill within him-as if he should know something that was just outside of his grasp. Then it passed, like a cloud gone from the sun, and there was only Elrond before him.  
  
"He will learn," Legolas said.  
  
"I have someone I want you to meet," the lord of Rivendell then stated. "Come."  
  
Legolas raised an eyebrow, but went with Elrond without question. He was led through the gardens, deeper into the woods, where they came across someone firing arrows into a target. Legolas could feel the frustration coming from the…man. For that is what he was, not an elf-but a young man.  
  
"Estel," Elrond called quietly. The boy stopped, spinning around. He obviously had not heard the elves approaching. Legolas regarded him, and it was then that he first looked upon the face that had captured his heart-had captured it instantly. Aragorn, son of Arathorn, known as Estel to the elves of Rivendell. Ward of Elrond. Legolas had not been told his true name, or lineage, until some time later. "I wanted you to meet Legolas, he is the Prince of Mirkwood."  
  
The boy had seemed overwhelmed by that news, of being told he stood before a prince. His dark hair feel down across his brow, and gray eyes were uncertain as he looked indirectly at Legolas, averting his gaze ever so slightly to keep from meeting the Princes eyes.  
  
"Hello Estel," Legolas responded. "It seems much has changed since I last visited your home, Elrond. Where did you come upon a human child?"  
  
Elrond went to Aragorn, placing an arm around his shoulders.  
  
"After his father died, I agreed to foster him."  
  
"I see," Legolas said enigmatically. Aragorn blushed under the scrutiny ofthe blond elf, staring at his feet. "How old are you, Estel?"  
  
"Sixteen," the boy responded. Sixteen! A mere child, even by human standards, that he was smitten by.  
  
"Well, your form is impressive, how would you like me to show you a thing or two?" Legolas offered, smiling softly. The smile seemed to make all the difference to Aragorn, he had relaxed visibly and nodded slowly a smiletouching his own features.  
  
"I would very much like that."  
  
Elrond laughed softly.  
  
"Then I shall leave the two of you to it. Will you take dinner with me later, Legolas?"  
  
"Of course Lord Elrond," Legolas responded with a smile. Elrond nodded, then withdrew...  
  
***  
  
Legolas was awakened by a sharp kick to his side. He yelped in pain before he realized it, scrambling to stand--ready to attack, but he was knocked back down. Everything came rushing back, where he was, what had happened. Aragorn was not here, may not even be alive--those thoughts he pushed away. There was no Elrond either. He perhaps was already in the West. A darkness that threatened to choke him settled around the elf. His arms ached from how they were restrained and the collar around his neck was too tight--not tight enough to choke, but tight enough to hurt, especially when it was jerked upon so roughly by the men.  
  
The ones who had woken him were saying something to him, but the elf did not understand, nor did he care to. He could not see what difference it would make really. He could infer from what Brolin said what was to come about. Hearing them chatter about it endlessly would do nothing for his spirits. They seemed to want an answer though, as he was kicked again. Legolas hissed softly, and moving with a quickness only found in elves, he managed to get the legs of the one who had kicked him out from under him. His arms may be bound, but his legs were not. The elf felt satisfaction for only a moment though, as he paid dearly for his disobedience.  
  
***  
  
They had been moving steadily closer to the low outline of a town for the last two hours. Now it was almost dark when they finally reached the outskirts of the village. Tierny, who was in the lead, slowed his pace a little until he walked next to Aragorn who had not said much since they left the beach.  
  
"We will stop here for the night." Tierny said quietly. "If we spend what gold we have left wisely it should get us to Cirlaneva with a roof over our heads at night, and warm food in our stomachs."  
  
Aragorn merely nodded his head, but his eyes rested on the small settlement they approached. He watched as a group of children played outside a small row of ramshackle huts, but they did not linger there and quickly moved farther on into the town, past the dingy outer area into a more well kept part.  
  
They found a small out of the way place near the other side of the town. The passage through the place had left Aragorn and the others with more then just a few things to think about as they glimpsed people of various ages dressed in little more than rags running hither and tither on errands. They were of a different coloring than the rest of the villagers and seemed of lower standing. Merry and Pippin had asked about it of Verin but he had given them a vague response and promised to explain more later.  
  
The main bulk of the party waited out side the small inn while Tierny went in to talk to the owner of the establishment. The hobbits looked around curiously, though not quite bold enough to wander too far from their companions yet. Gimli stood by solemnly, keeping an eye on his small friends, and casting worried glances at Aragorn. Tierny returned not long after to wave them all in with a smile.  
  
"He has rooms for all of us," He said. "We will have to double up however and he was willing to haggle over the price since we come with such a large party."  
  
"And food?" Asked Pippin looking slightly hopeful. Despair or no, the hobbit had not had a decent meal in quite a while and it was foremost in his thoughts.  
  
Aragorn glanced back at the young Hobbits and sighed. It was the first time food had been mentioned since they left the beach, and he as just now realizing it. Shaking his head, Aragorn mentally berated himself for having not noticed. Walking back he put a hand on Pippin's shoulder.  
  
"Aye, we will get something nice and warm to eat." He said quietly.  
  
"Sounds good." Merry said trying to smile, though it came across more strained than happy.  
  
"Yeah, though something cold at this point would even be welcome!" Pippin agreed, then he reached over to pat Aragorn's arm. "Thank you, Strider." Glancing down at him, Aragorn nodded but did not say anything.  
  
Soon they were ushered inside, and shown rooms. They were small and spare, but clean. The sailors who had made it through were given two rooms to split up among them selves, while another was procured for the remaining members of the company. Aragorn was given a room of his own and he made no protest against it. He wasn't sure if it was wise, to be left to his own thoughts and grieving, but at the same time the King didn't know how much of the inevitable banter and chatter that would be generated by sharing a room with his friends he could tolerate.  
  
Taking a few minutes to themselves, the group later gathered downstairs, to find food and perhaps a couple of drinks. The two Hobbits were of course already enjoying a second helping as Aragorn stepped into the room. His gray eyes scanned the crowd, spotting a few of the sailors sitting together here and there. Gimli, Merry, Pippin, Tierny, and Verin were however sitting off to the side at a slightly larger table. As his gaze fell upon him, the Captain waved him over, and the King responded almost automatically.  
  
"Aragorn would you like something?" Tierny asked as he made room for the other man, pushing the extra ale that had been ordered towards him.  
  
Aragorn picked up the ale, but did not sip it yet.  
  
"No thank you." He said quietly, instead he turned and walked towards the back corner of the room to sit at an empty table. The King of Gondor missed the look that Tierny and Gimli exchanged when his back was turned, not that it would have made much difference even if he had seen it.  
  
Sitting down in the corner, Aragorn leaned back against the wall, seeing but not really taking in the room, oblivious to the goings on around him. It brought another time to his mind, in a distant tavern, one that had taken place a long time ago, during another battle--a battle which had been much different than the trials that were faced in this age. On a black night, in a little place called Bree, the night when he'd first met Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin. ~Only that was a world away, and what seems like a lifetime, ago.~  
  
Taking a sip of his drink, the King watched a new group of men come through the door. They were much gruffer than the others in the room, somehow darker. They reminded him of orcs, though nowhere near so dark and vile. Aragorn tapped his fingers against the small wooden table beneath his elbow, the room and the new comers fading, bringing to surface another memory....  
  
***  
  
It had been high summer in the forest. Soon the leaves would begin to change colors, in preparation for winter. That time had not yet arrived though, just a hint of the turning of the seasons was in the air.  
  
There had been no peace in the last few days however, no time to enjoy the simple beauty of the forest. ~No time to steal more then a couple of glances in -his- direction.~ Aragorn sighed leaning wearily back against the smooth trunk of the tree, in whose shadow they had found a brief refuse.  
  
"Will they come back?" He asked. His voice sounded loud to him in the stillness that had enveloped the land about then. The soft breeze rustling the leaves on the trees was interrupted only by the singing of a lark nearby.  
  
"Not for a bit, at least." Legolas replied quietly, from where he crouched near the bank of the brook that ran beneath the out stretching crown of the tree.  
  
Aragorn nodded, leaning forward to press the blade of his sword into the ground, pulling it out a few moments later cleaned of the blood that had stained its bright surface. Wiping the few bits of dirt that clung to it off upon the grass, the Ranger replaced it in it's customary sheath at his side.  
  
"We should get some rest."  
  
He looked up to find Legolas standing over him, tall and fair in the light of dusk. The sight took his breath away as quickly as it set his heart pounding, but Aragorn knew he could do nothing for it, so he turned away. The man glanced up into the tree, noting the small platform high in its branches.  
  
"It should work." He commented quietly.  
  
When he turned back, Legolas was already pulling himself easily up into the lower branches of the tree. Silently the Ranger climbed up after the elf and as the constant movement of the last few days was set aside something akin to fatigue began to take its place, the weariness of a body that had too long been in motion without rest and a mind without a moments peace.  
  
Easily and quickly they arranged themselves on the small platform high in the trees, sharing a comfortable silence and a bit of the food they carried with them. It would be time to head back soon as their supplies would not last long even with the small portions they both ate and the extra food stuffs they had gathered about them in the forest. Aragorn hated to leave, despite it all—the fatigue, the sparse meals--it was a time that the man had grown to cherish in ways he could not explain to anyone, not even himself, his time with Legolas, the two them here, friends—not quite more.  
  
"You should rest Aragorn."  
  
He looked up, away from his thoughts to find the elf watching him from where he leaned against the trunk of the tree, still strong and thick despite the height. Aragorn met the intent gaze for a moment, before turning to watch as the last edge of the red disk of the sun slid beneath the mountains. He was tired, he could not deny that, it was the truth.  
  
"You have not slept the past nights either my friend." he said quietly.  
  
"And elves do not..."  
  
"Require the same amount of sleep, this I know." Aragorn reached up to run his fingers through the lengths of his dark hair. "But even you need some rest Legolas."  
  
"We will be heading back soon, I will rest then."  
  
"Please, Legolas." Aragorn sighed quietly. "Wake me before dawn, and try to get some rest if only for my peace of mind?"  
  
Legolas arched an eyebrow, a mildly curious look in his blue eyes, and then shrugged.  
  
"If it will make you feel better..." He trailed off, staring up into the branches of the ancient tree.  
  
"You will then?"  
  
"I said I would did I not?"  
  
"Legolas..."  
  
"I will do as you ask, Ranger."  
  
Aragorn chuckled, pulling his cloak around him as he made the most of the outer edge of the platform, though there was not really much room for the lanky man to stretch out in…  
  
***  
  
Lost in the memory, Aragorn had not been paying attention to anything that went on around him. He'd been lost in another place and another battle all together, very different times. At least he had been until a pair of booted feet stomped down next to his table, accompanied by a still foaming beer that hit the table with a loud thump, sloshing across the dirty surface.  
  
"You're at my table." Announced the owner of the boots and the beer in a loud voice.  
  
Shaking off the last remnants of the memory, Aragorn looked up at the man that stood before him. He hadn't a clue what he had said, though it was obviously not friendly.  
  
"I'm sorry I don't understand." He tried finally, hoping that maybe the man could speak common. The look that flashed across the others rough face was another obvious no. He sighed, with a soft hiss, glad when Tierny appeared just behind the man. "Thank you." Aragorn said, and the Captain simply nodded.  
  
Tapping the large man on the shoulder, Tierny addressed him quietly in his own tongue, ignoring the fact that most everyone else in the place was watching them now. There was a moment of tense silence before the man made his statement again just as loudly and considerably more aggressive.  
  
"He says this is his table." Tierny translated, glancing at Aragorn, before saying something else to the man who simply glared and said a curt, but definite, no. "I asked him if he would sit at that table over there, he said he would not."  
  
Aragorn shrugged, and picked up his drink—it was not worth a fight.  
  
"It does not matter." He said softly to Tierny. "Tell him he can have his table, I have no more use of it." Turning away the man strode away from the corner not bothering to look back. With a couple of words said to the rude new comer, Tierny hurried after Aragorn. He stopped the man's quick retreat with a hand on his shoulder.  
  
"Aragorn I'm sorry."  
  
"It doesn't matter." Aragorn repeated, glancing back at him. "I think I will retire now," he added as he drank the last of the ale in his tankard. "It.... has been a long day."  
  
Tierny gave his shoulder a squeeze, looking for a moment as if to say something more, but he did not, instead he simply nodded and let the King go, turning back to find his seat at the table with the others. Gimli gave the captain a questioning look, but Tierny said nothing.  
  
Aragorn left the crowded tavern, in favor of the solace of his own room. Once inside, with the door safely closed, it was all too easy to let the slightly dimmed din from below slide away from his mind. Standing by the window, watching the darkness outside, as the first drops of rain dropped from the sky, splattering on the thick glass. A new storm had been massing along he horizon since the brief, transient beauty of the morning.  
  
~Nothing beautiful lasts.~ He thought bitterly sitting down in the chair next to the window with a tired sigh. ~No happiness is forever, it all fades or is... lost.~  
  
The events on the ship replayed before his mind, as his head drifted down to rest in the palms of his hands. Tears wished to flow, but he would not let more then a few renegades slide down his cheeks from tired eyes. Tearing his mind away Aragorn tired to return to the past memory that had come to him in the room below, a memory of happier times, even if they had not been more peaceful.  
  
***  
  
He'd dream that night after falling asleep, though it had been more akin to a nightmare. It had been a dream that mirrored to well the recent events that had taken place, only not aboard a ship. Aragorn had opened his eyes only to meet a pair of slightly worried ones, their pale color hidden in the darkness that hung about them. He began to sit up, but stopped closing his eyes once again for a moment, taking a slow, deep, calming breath.  
  
"It was just a dream." He said softly.  
  
"Aye it was." Legolas replied, meeting the Rangers gaze for a moment when he turned to look at him. "Do you wish to speak of it?"  
  
"It was a dream, I will not make it more real by repeating it." Standing up he stretched for a moment.  
  
"As you wish." The elf's voice was quiet.  
  
Aragorn turned to study his delicate features for a moment, before looking out at the night spread out below them.  
  
"I'm awake now, you should try and get some sleep my friend. I do not think that it would come to me again if I tried."  
  
Legolas looked as if to protest, but stopped himself. Quietly the two of them had traded space, Aragorn found himself leaning back against the tree, its trunk still warm from where the elf had just vacated his spot. Stretching out along the wider stretch of wood, he watched Legolas's breath become slow and regular, though his eyes did not close. Yet only when he was sure the elf was asleep did he allow his eyes to drink in the beauty that they sought.  
  
***  
  
As the morning dawned, it found Tierny and Verin in the now much less crowded common area of the inn, talking with Milnor and Sintre. They were seated at a small table beneath the window, drinking coffee. Outside the first light of the sun had yet to touch this part of the land, though it looked as if today the sun may be reluctant to show its bright face, for the clouds still hung low and forbidding in the sky over head—dark and boiling.  
  
"I would have you travel ahead to Cirlaneva. You know the way and will travel faster without having to stay with the rest of us." He said taking a sip of his drink. "Once there you will take my letter to the King, so that he might know of the recent happenings and our current progress towards the city. It will be easier if he knows of our coming and can prepare for our arrival."  
  
"It will be done." Milnor said simply, nodding as he downed the last of his own drink.  
  
"Thank you my friend." Tierny stood up and offered the other man his hand. It was accepted and they shook. "May you have good speed," The Captain added, as Milnor picked up the leather pack containing the letter and a bit of money for the traveling sailors.  
  
"And with you." So saying Milnor left the Inn with Sintre behind him. What little they would be taking with them already waited outside, as well as two horses.  
  
Slowly sitting back down Tierny looked across the table at Verin with a tired sigh. He had not slept well that night, nor did he expect he would for a while yet. Though he was indeed glad to be back in his homeland, it held no joy for him this dark morning.  
  
"It will work out?" the Captain asked questioningly.  
  
"It will." Verin said softly meeting Tierny's gaze for a moment. "It will."  
  
***  
  
The trek to Cirlaneva was a very unpleasant one. The men were cruel and his arms and shoulders screamed with pain from the strain of being bound in such a manner. Elves could endure more pain, but even they had limits, and it was starting to get to Legolas. Even with his elven grace, he had begun to stumble often--exhausted and in need of water, stomach empty. Still, what fate would await him when they reached the city? The ideas that came to Legolas were not comforting and he tried not to think on it…perhaps in the city there would be hope. They had passed people on the road though, with their own slaves. The people were not kind to them. Most of the slaves the elf had seen were of a slightly different look than the men who held him, and their masters, as if they were a race all their own. Had it been a different situation, it would have intrigued him. Now, it just sickened him and he wished for the safeness of Rivendell, its never changing beauty.  
  
Before long, they came to the gate of the city. The entrance had guards posted, but people came and went freely--apparently no threat visited the city at this time. ~Save what you offer yourselves~ Legolas thought to himself. He would find no help here, only strangers--who either stared with appraisal or with awe, but neither look inspired them to come to his aid. He even saw pity in the eyes of some as they looked away from him quickly. Most of these people had never seen anything as beautiful or exotic as Legolas, and it was that fact that Brolin intended to make quite a profit from.  
  
So many people pressed in around him made Legolas even more uncomfortable. A sea of strangers, with strange features--and he could only feel malice from them. He could not hear the song of the forest or the sea. He had never felt so far from home, alone, or so afraid. It was not a feeling he liked, it was not a feeling he was used to--even when he had been with the Fellowship it had not been like this, the threat had been different. Not only different, but then there had been friends by his side, sharing in his fear. Now he was alone.  
  
The streets were narrow and rather dirty. Ragged children played in the streets, too thin children who seemed like little lost souls. They passed through a market place, and Brolin was stopped. Legolas was gestured to, but the man shook his head and pushed them off. ~Offers~ the elf thought to himself. ~For me~ He shuddered despite himself and kept his eyes straight ahead, ignoring the jibes from his guards and from the people they passed. He could not understand them. He did not need to understand them.  
  
It was in the market place though that Legolas spied a familiar face. For a brief moment, hope flared. Milnor, and the other sailor he always hung about-Sintre, the elf believed. The man had not cared for him, Legolas knew this, but surely...?  
  
Before he could say anything, Milnor looked his way. Shock registered, for only a moment, to be replaced by a cold smile. Legolas' heart sank, the ember of hope dying. There would be no help from there either. Where was Aragorn? If these two had made it, surely Aragorn and the others had as well? Milnor grabbed Sintre's arm and motioned, then started over--his friend in tow. Legolas said nothing, his voice failing him. Milnor sidled right up to Brolin, and the words they exchanged the elf did not understand.  
  
"Pretty piece you have there," Milnor commented. Brolin looked annoyed with the wretch of a man.  
  
"Worth more than you'll ever see your life you sea rat," Brolin snapped.  
  
"Perhaps. You may want to hear what I have to say though. I know where he comes from, and I know how to get the people who would be most interested in seeing him returned here in moments." It was not the total truth, but enough of it to suit his purposes for the moment. It had its desired effect, getting Brolin's attention quite effectively. He narrowed his dark eyes--a dangerous look in them.  
  
"Go on," he said.  
  
"He came over with a King, shipwrecked they were. That King would be mighty interested in getting him back. Now, makes no difference to me--I don't like the git anyway, but I think you could make it worth my while to keep my mouth shut. Don't you?" Milnor stated. Brolin looked livid.  
  
"How dare you…?"  
  
"Choose your words carefully Brolin, you know what you're intending to do is illegal. And if the authorities attentions were brought to it properly, you' d find yourself in a world of trouble, 'specially being so close to the palace and all. So what you say, can we do a little business?"  
  
Legolas watched the exchange, wondering what was being said and even as he wondered, knowing whatever the outcome of the argument it probably would not end well for him. Brolin seemed to be considering something and finally he nodded.  
  
"Fine," he agreed. "I will cut you in, you little weasel. But know this, if you double cross me, I will have your hide." The man took out his money pouch and paid some money to Milnor, who counted it with interest.  
  
"I know you are a more generous soul than that, slave trader," Milnor commented. "The price you get for this one will be talked about for ages."  
  
Brolin looked ready to just run Milnor through, but instead he paid him more money.  
  
Why was money exchanging hands? Had Milnor betrayed them from the beginning? What had happened to the others? Similar fates? All of these thoughts ran through Legolas' mind and rage welled within him. He lunged for Milnor, paying no heed to his bonds. The elf was subdued quickly though- the guard holding the tether of the collar yanked so hard that Legolas thought his neck might break and he was driven to his knees--staring up at Brolin and Milnor, shaking with anger. Milnor laughed, actually laughed.  
  
"I think I know who would enjoy this one," he commented. Brolin smiled  
  
. "Ah yes, that is where we are headed."  
  
Milnor knelt in front of Legolas, smirking.  
  
"I think this role suits you a bit better, elf," he stated, in the Common Tongue of Middle Earth. "Than flitting around with the favor of a King. Do not worry about your King, the seabed is his new home."  
  
A lie told merely to illicit the stricken look that crossed Legolas' features. It was delicious to Milnor--let him think his King were dead.  
  
"You lie," Legolas finally hissed, which only got him kicked.  
  
"Do I?" asked Milnor. Then, switching back to Cedacian, he looked at Brolin. "It was nice doing business with you." With that, he and Sintre withdrew, to finish up the business Tierny had sent them out on.  
  
Legolas sat on the ground, the grief and doubt he had kept at bay regarding Aragorn coming to the surface. Aragorn dead? Did he dare believe the vile man that had just left him in the hands of his tormentor? Legolas could not afford to believe him, he had to believe Aragorn lived. Though a new fear etched its way into his mind. What if Aragorn, or the Hobbits, or even gruff Gimli, had ended up in a position the same as his? Captured and headed for trade? For he knew, with a dread in his heart, that was exactly where he was headed. The elf was pulled from his thoughts roughly though as he was hauled to his feet again by Brolin, who was in his face.  
  
"Don't you EVER pull something like that again or you will dearly regret it. You just cost me quite a bit of money. You better hope you earn it back with where we're going."  
  
Legolas looked at him defiantly.  
  
"I will kill you."  
  
"Not bloody likely," Brolin snapped, then laughed coldly. He called out some orders to his men--who scattered like rats to do as their Master's bidding. 


	8. Captive

This story was written with Jaya (Jaya_Korin@wolfenet.com).  
  
Disclaimer: Middle Earth and its characters belong to Tolkien, no money is made off of this story. And no disrespect is intended.  
  
Author's Note: Sorry for the LONG delay for Chapter 8…it just didn't want to be written and we had some real life issues…and yeah, well here it is and 9 shouldn't take as long. Please review if you would like to see Chapter 9 (  
  
Chapter 8 -- Captive  
  
Before long, Legolas found himself tethered to a horse drawn cart and headed out of the city by the opposite gate. He was not allowed to ride, and even his swift elven feet had trouble keeping the pace of the cart without faltering. When he did, Brolin would let him be dragged for a few moments—but not for too long, not wishing too much damage to be done to the fair skin of the elf. There were less men with them now—only six, seven if you counted their leader. Four rode in the cart with Brolin and one on either side of it on horseback.  
  
It was a beautiful day. The sun shown brightly in the blue sky, its rays hot against Legolas' skin. He squinted against its light, head hung as he trudged along after the cart. They stopped at one point to rest the horses, and Legolas was allowed to collapse as well and take a moment's solace. Brolin came to him again, looking down at him.  
  
"Not so high and mighty now are you?" he asked, speaking in a language the elf could understand. Legolas simply glared at the man, fire in his eyes. "That's right, you hang on to that hatred. Essex likes 'em with fire, harder to break, more fun that way. You'll do nicely I think, he's been on the lookout for a trinket like you for quite some time. Enjoy this while you can—because you'll look back on it in the weeks to come and wish you had it so good."  
  
Legolas looked away from him, making no response. Brolin just laughed and moved away. He barked some orders and a skin of water was brought to Legolas—it was place to his lips, but he refused to drink. The man looked annoyed and finally gave up trying. He walked back over to his comrades, leaving the elf where he was tethered. Legolas' mind was sifting through what Brolin had said. Perhaps it was only to attempt to frighten him (and it had) or perhaps he spoke the truth. Either way, Legolas knew he would die before he would let…the elf let that thought trail off.  
  
The rest he was allowed was not long, soon the cart was moving again and Legolas had the choice of getting to his feet and following or being dragged along. His fair skin already stung from the few times he had been dragged, so he managed to gain his footing again and did his best to keep up with the pace. He had never been so humiliated in his long life. Led about like some…animal. The men that rode next to him on horseback taunted and tormented him as much as they could before Brolin would call them off angrily. Legolas did his best to ignore them, which was hard when it got physical. It did not seem to bother them that he did not understand their language. One thing they did not realize though was that over the past few days he had spent with them, Legolas had been picking up a few words and phrases. His sharp ears and quick mind helped him. He had not been consciously doing it—but he realized at some point some of their words made sense. Not enough, not nearly enough, but some.  
  
They reached their destination, or what Legolas assumed was their destination, a few hours after the sun had been chased from the sky by the moon. He could see the keep in the distance, it was not a palace, but it was impressive in its own right, and very obviously built by someone with power or wealth, most likely both. Had it been different circumstances, Legolas could have found the structure quite beautiful, but as it were, he knew what fate most likely awaited him there, and it held no beauty or wonder for him. A wall had been built around the keep, topped by blazing torches. The gate stood open to visitors, but it was not unguarded. It was here that Brolin, and those accompanying him, were stopped. Legolas took those moments to lean against the cart, to rest. He could not remember having ever been this exhausted, it was exhaustion not just of the body, but of the spirit as well. The pain in his arms had subsided to a dull, almost numb feeling—the elf knew this did not bode well, but there was little he could do to remedy the situation.  
  
***  
  
Milnor and Sintre arrived at the Palace of King Erides, just on the outskirts of Cirlaneva, letter from Tierny in hand. They were stopped at the Palace walls by the Royal Guard, asking of their business.  
  
"We've a letter for His Highness, King Erides, from his faithful subject Tierny. 'Tis urgent, and needs be delivered quickly,"  
  
Milnor said, showing the pack. The guards at the gate knew Tierny, and also knew that Erides was expecting his former guard, as well as a King from another land. Still, this was not Tierny before them, and their first duty was to the well being of their king.  
  
"Give it to us, we will see it delivered to him. You may wait if you wish, to see what his response will be."  
  
Milnor simply nodded, handing over the letter. He and Sintre milled about, outside the gates, awaiting word. He had no doubt the King would send for them once he had read Tierny's letter.  
  
Erides stood on the balcony of his private chambers, overlooking the gardens of the palace. He smiled as he watched his children play. The King was quite proud of the people his children were growing into. He had been worried when his wife had died in childbirth while giving life to his twin son and daughter, worried that he would not be able to raise them as should be done on his own. His eldest son, who had been eight at the time, had taken his mother's death hard—but he had turned into a wonderful young man, and he adored his little brother and sister. Erides knew Faegyn would make a good successor, he had complete faith in his son. Kiela and Caissus adored their older brother, and he spent as much time with them as he could.  
  
If the talks with Aragorn, King of Gondor went well, Erides had every intent of asking the man to let Faegyn accompany them back to Gondor, to see of the land there. Erides would have loved to have been able to do as Aragorn himself had done, leave his kingdom to go himself—but some things hung too delicately in the balance for the King to be able to do that in good conscience. It would do Faegyn good though, to see the world outside the borders of Cedacia, and it would be a safer place for the heir of Cedacia—and that was most important to Erides. Faegyn had been instructed in the Common Tongue of Middle Earth in the few months that had passed from the planning to the eventual arrival of the guests, and he had taken to it quite well. The prince wasn't fluent, but he could carry on a conversation. He had learned it better than his father, the King, actually—but he had been tasked to it more often than Erides. The King wanted his son to understand the language of the place he would be going…Erides himself could speak it a bit, but would still rely on a translator to make sure no misunderstandings were come upon. He let his mind wander to what these people would be like. Tierny had nothing but good things to say of the King of Gondor. The Captain had been the head of his Guard at one time, and Erides trusted his judgement implicitly, so the King had good feelings about this encounter.  
  
"Your highness?"  
  
Erides turned as his guard called to him.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Two men have arrived, with a letter—claiming it comes from Tierny."  
  
That did not bode well, a voice of warning whispered in King Erides' mind. He crossed the room to the guard.  
  
"Where is this letter?" the king demanded. The guard handed it over and Erides tore into it quickly, reading with an ever increasing frown "Where are the men who brought this?"  
  
"Waiting outside," the guard said.  
  
"Have them brought in at once."  
  
"Yes my lord."  
  
The guard headed out quickly and Erides returned to watch his children. A shipwreck? Some of the party had been lost. This was not good news, and was not a good beginning to the visit. He would get more details from Tierny's messengers, then have a detail sent out to meet King Aragorn and the remainder of his party.  
  
Milnor and Sintre were brought to Erides' chambers in record time—Erides did not recognize the men, but if Tierny had sent them, the King was confident in their trustworthiness.  
  
"Tell me what has happened," he instructed. Milnor and Sintre both bowed, but as before, it was Milnor who took charge of the conversation between the two.  
  
"The fury of the sea caught our lady, the Fairwinds, half a day's sail offshore," he began, "That be Tierny's ship, My Liege. Part o' our crew and one o' the Gondorian King's are sleeping with the fishes tonight." He made a superstitious mark for speaking of the dead. "Th' dingies took what be left of us to shore near Emory, Tierny's coming from there, Your Highness, and he's a'hoping you could be sending some aid."  
  
King Erides' paled. He had known some had been lost and any deaths would have been too many, but one of Aragorn's own party had been lost as well. The King knew he had no control over the weather, but he could not help feeling a bit responsible. After all, it had been he who extended the invitation through Tierny.  
  
"Of course," King Erides said immediately. "A detail of men will assemble and leave immediately, I know you are weary, but I would ask at least one of you to accompany them in this, to see King Aragorn brought safely to the palace." A request, not an order, which was why Erides was endeared to most of his subject, and the source of the hatred for those that did not hold love for their king. They saw him as weak in some aspects. Milnor, for all his faults, respected King Erides and his authority—if for no other reason than how highly Tierny spoke of him.  
  
"Of course, King Erides, I will go meself," Milnor stated.  
  
"Thank you. There will be at least one with you who speaks the native language of Aragorn as well."  
  
"Tierny speaks their tongue, milord," the sailor offered quietly. King Erides nodded.  
  
"Yes, I know," Erides agreed. "It cannot hurt though. Go now, while arrangements are made you can take rest and food, I would advise it, for you look weary."  
  
"Thank you your majesty," Milnor stated, then he and Sintre were led from the King's private chambers. With a heavy heart, Erides returned to his balcony.  
  
"Faegyn," he called. "Could you come up here please?"  
  
The heir of Cedacia looked up when his father, the King, called to him, quickly coming without further prompting.  
  
While he awaited his son's arrival, Erides sent another guard to prepare a small contingent of guards to meet Aragorn and the rest of his party.  
  
***  
  
As they traveled across the land, moving steady towards the city of Cirlaneva, their final destination, each harbored their own pains and doubts at the events that had taken place in the past few days and were unfolding around them even now. The death of Legolas was foremost in many minds and could not be denied. However, there was another hurtle that presented itself not far into their journey, and that was the concept of Slavery.  
  
The idea that this was a culture with a separate class of people who were born into a life of servitude was unsettling to the people of Middle Earth—Man, hobbit and dwarf alike. That the people here saw nothing wrong with such practices, for they were born to it, and conditioned to see nothing wrong with such policies was more disturbing still. When Merry and Pippin were mistaken as slaves, it was nearly the last of tolerance among the broken company, tempers were thankfully assuaged though and for once Tierny found himself glad for the language barrier. It was the late night conversation between Aragorn, Gimli, Merry and Pippin that helped to settle things, even if it did not ease their minds regarding the practice of a caste system, where one caste was bred and born simply to server the others.  
  
It had taken place a few days past inside Aragorn's room, after a slightly heated discussion over a dinner that no one but Merry and Pippin had eaten much of, and even they had seemed small of appetite for once.  
  
***  
  
After a moment Aragorn turned from he had been staring out the window, to let his gaze pass over the rest of the room and those that resided within its limits. The two hobbits were seated quietly upon the bed once more, while Gimli was pacing near the door with a restless look on his face. The whole matter did not sit well with Gimli and from the somber moods of the normally cheerful Merry and Pippin they were having equal difficulty coming to any kind of terms with it. Though he knew his own countenance was less than happy and at ease in its own appearance, and long had it been since the joy of a smile had resided there.  
  
"Aragorn I do not like this." Gimli spoke first, and there was anger in the dwarf's voice, not to mention the flames like the forges beneath the earth that burned brightly in his eyes. "I do not like the thought of this at all. I did not like this place much before, call it the bitterness at losing friend, call it whatever you will, but this only does more to unsettle my heart regarding this place and its people. Tierny and Verin are fine men, do not mistake me, however this matter..."  
  
"Is out of our hands." Aragorn spoke quietly with a sigh. "There is nothing we can do to change this thing Gimli, even though we might wish it. If Tierny had thought it would bother us so he would have spoken before. The fact still remains, it is a way of life to him as well, so he thought not to mention it."  
  
"You think I do not know this?" The dwarf growled angrily as he began pacing again. "I know that, but it does nothing to change anything."  
  
"Gimli stop pacing." Pippin muttered irritably from the bed. "You are giving me more of a head ache than I already have."  
  
Merry eyed his younger companion.  
  
"It is making me fair dizzy as well." He said quietly, giving the dwarf a pleading look.  
  
With a growl, Gimli sat himself down in a chair opposite from Aragorn; however it did nothing to smooth the anger that radiated from him. The silence that sat between the four members of the company was heavy none seemed at all eager to break its oppressive weight.  
  
"I do not know…" Merry began a few minutes later. "But I do not like the thought of a people being raised to serve another. It is unsettling, though Tierny says that it is illegal to enslave another people... It still does not seem right to me...What makes it okay to enslave one but not another?"  
  
"Nor I." Pippin said. "If Merry and I were mistaken for slaves, what does that say?"  
  
"It says nothing good." Gimli said angrily but quieter then he had before. "I wonder what kind of King this Erides is if he turns a blind eye to such abominable acts."  
  
"Not even a King can be every where at once Gimli." Aragorn, who had so far been quiet, pointed out in a tired voice.  
  
"You seem to manage quite well." Offered Pippin.  
  
"Perhaps it may seem so." Was the reply. "However even I can not see to everything Pippin, if it were not for the help of trusted advisors and friends such as your selves..." He let his words trail off with a shrug, turning back to the window that seemed to hold much interest this night, even when nothing could been seen in the darkness. "Gimli to not judge Erides too harshly until you have met the man." Though even Aragorn did not speak of the misgivings that echoed in his heart, for he was not of a mind to do so. "We may not agree with the beliefs or practices of these people, however it is not for us to say who is right or who is wrong. It is their way of life and their lives; can we truly condemn them all when it is the way they are brought up from birth? And not our country?  
  
***  
  
Aragorn stared up at the city walls that loomed before him and the rest of the tattered company. They had been traveling for quite some time now, but even what he had seen of the rest of the country, he hadn't imagined what it would be like to look upon Cirlaneva, and now here it was spreading out before him. It could not match the White City for her beauty, but there was an unmistakable something about this city as there was about any great city of any land. Whether they be beautiful, havens for the more despicable, or something else all together, each had its own allure, its own flavor, taste and smell. Cirlaneva was like nothing else he had seen in his many travels, the man had to admit that. Though somehow he lacked the heart to appreciate her true beauty as he stared up at the walls.  
  
He glanced back over his shoulder at the rest of the small group that was making their way slowly towards the great gates. The friendly banter that passed between Merry and Pippin was comforting, normal to him, though the awe at the city was evident upon their faces did not go unnoticed. Nor did the way Gimli was trying not to show the fact that he was rather impressed with the great arching structured walls of the city as they moved closer with each step. Nor did he miss the smile upon Tierny's face as he leaned over to say something to Verin, who replied with a smile of his own. ~They are glad to be home.~ He thought, trying to quell the bitter feeling inside himself, Aragorn found his mind traveling to what Legolas might have thought of the city if he were still... 


End file.
